In the Name of Love revised
by TalesOfSpike
Summary: COMPLETE. Find out what Spike did to Quentin. What about Dawn? Does she or doesn't she and how are they going to find out? Can Xander come to terms with the situation or not? And who's getting married?
1. Prologue and Chapter 1

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By Tales of Spike 

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Disclaimer: All characters from the BtVS/AtS universe are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, etc. etc., but if they did belong to us we'd be far nicer to Spike.

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Author's Note: Apart from the prologue, the story starts after Older and Far Away, but before As You Were. It stays with the show until Hells Bells or chapter 7, after that it's AU all the way to chapter 23 and the epilogue. At the point that I wrote it a lot of it was based on transcripts as the relevant episodes hadn't reached the UK, so a huge thanks is due to Joan the English Chick and www.psyche.kn-bremen.de. This was my first attempt at FanFic, in fact it was the first time I had written anything since leaving secondary school in 1989. I originally posted it as NC-17 mostly so that I could write whatever I wanted without worrying about ratings. I'll be reviewing the rating on a chapter by chapter basis as I repost, but if you don't object to an occasional swear word there was very little in the original that came anywhere near the higher rating, except for half a page of smut round about chapter 7. What I do when I get that far will probably depend on reviews. If enough people let me know they want the rating of the series kept PG-13, I'll work it that way but repost an R rated version of the relevant scene as a ficlet for anyone who can and wants to read it, otherwise I'll change as little as possible and upgrade the series to an R. 

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Dedication: This is for all the reviewers who managed to keep me writing through to the end. You guys all know who you are and probably aren't reading this a second time Hope any new readers enjoy it as much as some appear to have done first time round. 

Reviews are still very welcome second time round and I will review and post the chapters more quickly if I get a good response. Otherwise, I'll stick to working on the epilogue for Spike's Will Be Done, which is probably too huge and action light for me to ever post even if there is lot's of Spuffiness. It's now several times larger than the original fic. Oops. (It's very definitely NC17, so it won't appear on ff anyway). Alternatively, I might work on one of a couple of ideas I have knocking round in my brain either a Series 2 AU or a total AU based on an old film with B/S taking over from Bogart and Bacall. (That should be a pretty big clue.)

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Prologue 

The woman stood at the window, framed by the gradually encroaching flames. She clutched the smaller female figure to her breast as if to protect her from the blaze. Her real family were all lost to her, but to the woman this was her family, to care for as well as she was able, which wasn't really all that well. She couldn't even really look after herself.

Spike loved her with all his heart. More than that, he understood her. Only he _could_ understand her. She had endured a catalogue of traumas, and it had altered her, reducing her to a shattered fragment of her former self.

His grand-sire had been drawn to her years before when she was a beautiful young innocent, but one with exceptional gifts. He had taken her innocence, and filled her world with pain and loss. She had died and then clawed her way up from the grave; all this was just a fraction of the events that had combined to make her who she now was.

So now Spike devoted his life to caring for her. It was his responsibility. He had made it so. He felt he owed it to her. His life before he met her had been worthless, wasted. She was his saviour. He would devote his entire existence to protecting her and making her happy.

Yet, he was helpless to protect her now from the rising flames or from the lynch-mob which surrounded the building which had been their home for the past six months. In fact, he wasn't even in the same section of the city.

He sat in an almost bare room. A cowled figure faced him across a worn desk, on which rested a large shallow silver bowl. Behind the desk, some sort of ceremonial circle had been laid out using a fine silver powder. Spike gazed in horror at the scene reflected on the surface of the bowl of black ink.

"This is coming to pass as you watch. If you wish to save her you must be prepared to pay… and the price could be high."

Spike's eyes were cold as diamond chips, and his voice was almost a feral growl. "Get her out of there! Now!"

Unintimidated, the figure opened one of the desk drawers and withdrew a sheet of parchment. Most of the sheet was already filled with writing, but the figure raised a mottled hand, spread it over the page. When he pulled his hand back the page was completely filled, except for the space for the signatory. The demon reached again into the drawer, withdrawing a feather quill.

"It's customary to sign these things in your own blood."

Without reading the contract, Spike used a nail to tear open a vein on the back of his right hand. He dipped the quill into the cut and scrawled his name across the bottom of the page.

"Now get her out or I will rip your head off, scoop out your brains and use the inside of your skull for an ashtray!"

The mage examined the signature on the contract. Seemingly satisfied, he rose from the desk and crossed over to stand beside the circle, and then he began to chant.

Spike returned his gaze to the bowl on the desk. Even in the seconds it had taken to sign the contract, the flames had claimed more of the building. He could no longer see into the first floor room where the woman had been, and all he could do was wait to see if the mage's spell would produce the desired result. He held an unnecessary breath as the mage completed his incantation.

Drusilla appeared within the bounds of the circle; Miss Edith clutched to her breast. Spike rushed to her and swept her cowering form into the safety of his arms, lifting her like a groom carrying his bride across the threshold. He murmured soothing noises to her and when she had quieted, he waltzed her round the room, still cradled in his arms until she laughed out loud.

"Miss Edith said you wouldn't let us burn."

"No, love." He lowered her feet to the floor whilst still keeping one arm around her back. He kissed her tenderly on the mouth, then soothed away a stray hair from her brow. "I'd never let anything bad happen to you, ever."

Only then did he return his attention to the figure once more seated behind the desk.

"You!" He swaggered over to the table. "You knew this was gong to happen, didn't you?"

"A seer always finds it most difficult to predict their own fate. By the time you decided to consult me as to the meaning of her visions, it was already too late… or perhaps if you had not come to me you would have been there to prevent her from taking the child and there would have been no mob, no fire. Who knows? The fates can be cruel."

Spike pulled the contract back towards him, reading the text for the first time. He felt as if he had been outsmarted, used somehow. He was tempted to tear the contract to shreds and eat the mage for tea. However, the contract itself was probably magical and the mage-seer's reputation suggested he would be more than able to defend himself. Magic was something Spike preferred not to mess with. Somehow any time he had things had not gone that well.

Besides the terms of the contract weren't all that bad.

In exchange for the services provided this day, **namely preventing the demise of one loved one**; the signatory shall provide goods or services to the bearer of this contract upon demand.

If taken in goods or currency, the fee shall represent no more than **one tenth** part of the total net worth of the signatory. Alternatively, payment may be taken in the form of services to be provided by the signatory over a period not exceeding **one week**. *

Signed
William the Bloody 

*The following standard clauses apply if payment is taken in the form of services.

The signatory may not be expected to perform any task inherently involving permanent physical damage to themselves, but may be required to perform services where there is a risk of harm, not exceeding an approximate 25% probability.

Any failure on the part of the signatory to meet the terms of this contract will result in the invocation of the three-fold rule.

"Okay Mage-Boy, so what does this three-fold thing at the bottom mean then?"

"It means, Bleach-Boy, that today your lady love was saved. If you don't pay up when the time comes, then you can count on three of the people you care most about coming to a painful and untimely end."

Spike's mouth creased into his trademark smirk. "Fine." Spike reckoned that perhaps he hadn't done too badly on this deal after all. At the very worst he'd bought some extra time for Dru. Hell! The last time there were three people in this world that he cared about had been over a hundred years ago. Dru was the only one. She was his world. With that he resolved to put all thought of the contract behind him, at least until the day someone asked him to make good on it.

"Come on, kitten. It's time we found a new home. Prague's no good to us no more."

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End of Prologue

Chapter 1

Spike scowled at the television set in front of him. "No! Don't listen to her. Can't you tell the stupid bint's only after you for your money?" Buffy would laugh if she could see him. The Big Bad, sitting in his armchair, fag in one hand, beaker of blood in the other, shirt undone yelling abuse at the two-dimensional daytime soap characters. 

Mentally reprimanding himself for letting Buffy thoughts intrude on his "Passions" fix, he took another slurp of his liquid breakfast. Maybe later, he'd ring to see if he could help with Dawn when she was working. He felt pretty uneasy about Halfrek's little speech the other night. Buffy would probably accuse him of having an ulterior motive anyway, but at least if he saw Dawn when she was at work she had fewer grounds for suspicion. He was supposed to be Dawn's protector. Now he never saw her. Then again the last time he tried phoning Buffy it hadn't exactly been a roaring success.

He was still debating to himself what he could do to help Dawn, when he heard a knock at his door. At lightning speed he moved across the room into the darkest shadows, grabbing a large knife from his coffin-shaped weapons chest in the corner of the room.

'Bloody Hell! Who's comin' knockin' at this time of day? Lil' Bit should still be at school. Slayer wouldn't knock. Bad news whatever way you look at it.' The thoughts moved through his brain as fast as he moved around the room. He waited invisible and silent in the shadows.

The knock sounded once again, followed by an inquisitive voice, "Mister … ehm. William?" The door nudged open slowly.

'Wanker. Obviously can't think one word ahead of his mouth.' Spike was marginally amused by the awkwardness of his visitor. This lasted until the door opened far enough for him to come into full view. Thereafter, Spike saw him and recognised him for what he was. The highly polished black loafers (except for the line of graveyard mud around the bottom). The neatly pressed charcoal grey suit, the pristine white shirt and the conservative tie were all major indications, but what clinched it was the briefcase. Lawyer. Too young to be in charge of anything major, unless he was some sort of whiz kid, and lets face it, the "Mister" comment meant he probably wasn't. That meant he was here because there was some sort of dirty work to be done that the senior partners wanted no part in.

The television being on gave him little chance of pretending he wasn't there, so Spike decided to go for intimidation. "I think you're a little bit lost, kid." He stepped forward into the light letting his gaze drift up the length of the lawyer's body. Then he stared unblinkingly into his adversary's eyes until the younger man reflexively looked away. Score one to William the Bloody.

"You seem to match the description I was given. 5'10". Slim build. Short bleach blonde hair, blue eyes, pale complexion." He fumbled to open the briefcase, pulling something from it. "It's not the best likeness, but I would say that this is definitely you." He passed over what appeared to be some sort of surveillance photograph, showing both Spike and the slayer. There was nothing inherently incriminating about the picture in itself, but Spike remembered the night it had been taken. If their spies had stuck around a couple of hours longer there was a good chance that they had some rather more revealing shots from later that night. Game to the lawyer.

Spike steeled himself for what was to come. "Okay, I'm William the Bloody, now what d'you want?"

"Our clients would like to make use of your services." Once more he reached into the briefcase. "I believe you should be familiar with this contract."

Spike's heart sank as he recognised the piece of parchment. Fear spread through his body, making him feel far cooler than the ambient air temperature. He gave an involuntary shiver. "Who?" Who had he endangered? Buffy? Dawn? Who else? 

The lawyer clearly misunderstood the question. "I'm afraid our clients would prefer to remain anonymous. The paper was bought at public auction."

"No, the default clause. Who are we talking about in the default clause?"

The lawyer gave a nervous laugh. "I don't think you need to worry about that. That clause would never hold up in a court of law. It is rather vague. It could even be illegal in itself. _Unless_, you happen to believe that there's some sort of magic at work, and we _all_ know magic's just for fairy tales." He looked coolly into Spike's ultramarine eyes. "_If_ however, we were talking, purely hypothetically, I would say that the young lady in the photograph might be a likely candidate and I believe she has a younger sister with whom you are acquainted. In addition I believe that my client's surveillance indicated that you spent more time with one Rupert Giles and one Tara Maclay than with any of the others in your social circle, over the summer but that recently you have been seen a lot with a gentleman by the name of Clem. I think the general consensus was in favour of the young lady. My clients seemed to think you would be more inclined to do whatever was necessary to protect a member of the fairer sex."

'_Bloody hell. How long had these people been keeping tabs on him?_' The remark about Tara and Giles referred to their patrol groups last summer. Spike didn't like the idea that anyone could be watching him for that long without him knowing. His anger simmered slowly inside him. For Buffy, for Dawn and for Tara he held it in check.

"You realise that there are certain things… that I don't do all the things I used to do."

"Yes, we are aware of your present _circumstances_ shall we say. Nothing will be required of you that you are physically unable to perform. In fact," a sly gleam began to show in the lawyer's eye, "our client feels that your recent _baby-sitting_ experience might prove useful. We wish for you to provide a nursery for a demon who will be arriving in the area very shortly. The demon will lay its eggs. You make yourself available to protect them from any predators. After four or five days we'll arrange for them to be picked up, and moved on to their new owners."

"So that's it? It seems a bit too easy."

"The eggs have to gestate at the Hellmouth for a few days, but they'll be moved before they're due to hatch. The parents will most likely be being pursued. By the terms of the agreement it can't be anything too risky, but don't think it'll be a walk in the park. These little fellows could be worth a pretty penny. There may be all sorts of nasties looking for them, but as long as you keep it nice and quiet that you've got them you shouldn't have too much of a problem."

Spike raised an eyebrow at the way the lawyer's glib description of the situation. "Really? Somehow I'm sure things won't be quite that simple, but I guess you know I'm goin' to do it anyway. You wouldn't be here if your bosses didn't already know that. So, if that's all the good news, I suggest you leave now."

"If you wish. Here's my card. We'll be in touch." Spike made no move to accept the card from him, so he set it down on top of the TV set. The closing credits had just started to roll. Amazing how much can change in just quarter of an hour.

Spike watched him leave. He moved to push the door closed after him. As soon as the door was securely shut behind him, Spike headed for his liquor stash. He downed a third of the bottle before frustration got the better of him and he launched the bottle and the remainder of its contents against the wall.

He drew another bottle from his supply and sank back into his armchair to contemplate life's (or unlife's) ironies. To protect Buffy, her sister and her friend, he would do something she would despise him for, if she ever found out about it. He'd do it because he loved them, but he had to do it because once he'd loved Dru or thought he had.

"Love's fuckin' bitch! Again."

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End of Chapter 1

Next chapter : Spike's reactions

Another unexpected visitor at his crypt


	2. Chapter 2

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In the Name of Love 
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By Tales of Spike 

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Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy etc. own all the characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer though I think we should report them to Amnesty International for the cruel and unusual punishment meted out to Spike in recent months.

Thanks again to Joan the English chick and www.psyche.kn-bremen.de for transcripts since "As You Were" still hadn't aired in the UK when I wrote this.

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Chapter 2

"Yes, that's right, everything is in place here."

"Yes, Willy's. The barman put me in touch with the right people, well when I say _people_, I am using it in the loosest sense of the word. They'll be around when they need to be."

"Yes, quite the experience, but I think I'll be glad to get back to business as normal. Okay, so I'll stay in town tonight and get the first flight tomorrow, and I'll be back in the office Friday."

The lawyer replaced the phone. Home office was pleased with him. Everything was going to plan. This was his ticket to a partnership. He had proven that he could cope with the things in that bar and come out unscathed not to mention under budget on the expenses. He could cope with anything the partners cared to throw at him.

* * * * *

Spike's drinking spree had ground to a temporary halt. This was largely, okay, _totally_ due to the fact that he had run out of alcohol about ten minutes ago. He was currently at that mellow stage of inebriation where he wasn't quite sure whether the trip to the off-licence was more trouble than it was worth. He decided to light up another cigarette whilst he thought it over. That was the simple decision he had to make.

Okay, he had another hour or so before the sun hit tolerable levels. Travelling under cover was definitely too much effort in his present condition. If he still wanted a drink by the time the sun went down, then the shopping trip was on, otherwise, sod it, he'd probably still have to go to get some more booze just to make sure he had some in. It could be a rough week.

* * * * *

Spike leaned back against the tree. His metabolism had already burned off all the alcohol he'd drunk this afternoon, but he took a quick nip from his flask just often enough to ensure he was never stone cold sober. His eyes drifted shut and he forced tense shoulder muscles to relax. All afternoon and evening his thoughts had gone round in circles. Drinking, shopping, patrolling even, nothing stopped the circular train of thought.

He really wanted to tell Buffy about this afternoon. Not to ask for help, there was no help she could give. He wanted to tell her because he wanted to be honest with her, but if he told her what was going on she was bound to interfere. So by telling her, he would be endangering his charges rather than protecting them and that would mean that he'd broken the contract, wouldn't it? And if he broke the contract then Buffy, Dawn and Tara would die. 

But if he didn't tell her and she found out, she would never believe why he'd done it. The lawyer had the contract. He had no proof. Was it too much to hope that she might trust him? Probably. Hmph! Definitely. Would she be disappointed? Maybe. Some days, Spike knew that her taunts about him being evil were mostly to reinforce her denial of her feelings for him. He knew that on an instinctive level, she thought that he'd changed. He knew that if she really deep down believed all the things she said then she would never have continued the affair. She did care, maybe it wasn't love, (not yet. a little voice in his head echoed their conversation of a few weeks before), but he had to believe on some level she cared. Bizarre to think that he had a better opinion of her morals than she did. Of course, other days every insult was another knife through his heart and he knew she believed every word that came from that oh so kissable mouth. 

Of course the reverse of the argument where she believed he'd changed went like this. She decides that he hasn't changed, then bye-bye Spikey. One way or another. So don't tell her. Can't tell her. She mustn't ever know.

She mustn't ever know… but God he wished he could tell her.

And so back to the beginning of the argument.

Surely she should be getting back soon. She hadn't been patrolling. She wasn't at the Bronze. She wasn't in the sitting room, and there wasn't a light on in her room, so she had to be at that bloody job of hers. He could wait. He still had half a flask and a full packet of cigarettes. Sooner or later she'd be back. 

Five cigarette butts later, he heard her footfalls on the walkway, and caught a whiff of her latest perfume, animal fat with just the faintest almost undetectable hint of that morning's vanilla perfume. He was returning the flask to his pocket after one last swig when he heard her joyful greeting, "Oh, for Pete's sake. Spike?"

Spike straightened and walked around the tree he'd been leaning against. "Ah. It's a fair cop. You caught me, Slayer. However…" He grinned wickedly, blue eyes glittering with a combination of little boy mischief and manly desire. "… In all honesty, we do have to say that one doesn't count. After all I wasn't exactly hiding."

He could tell she was tired and more than a little down after a day of drudgery but he could also tell that she wanted him every bit as badly as he wanted her. It might take a bit of persuasion, but tonight, at least for a while, he would be able to pretend she was his.

* * * * *

Spike decided to make another pass through the cemeteries on his way back to the crypt. There were times, like tonight when he just couldn't stay away from Buffy any longer, but these stolen moments came with a price. Frantic fumbles in the bushes only appeased his baser appetites and only for the briefest of times, leaving him tense and frustrated, hence the late night patrol. 

In a lot of ways, he would almost rather things were back the way they were before Sweet and his musical extravaganza hit town. Back then they had almost been friends for a while. He could have been there for her. They could have sat on the back porch and she would have let off steam about her crap job. Maybe he might even have made her smile. They might still have been sitting there together hours from now. That was worth so much more to him than all the sexual escapades. Well, he'd burned those bridges with his little song. Now he had to play the game with the cards he had left. He fed the fires of her passion and hoped it would turn to love before the flames consumed them both.

They had gone from being friends to being sexual partners. Sometimes he thought it was too much to hope that they would ever be lovers, that she would make him welcome in her home, in her life and in her heart. He couldn't even talk to anyone about it. When she died, he hadn't had to hide his feelings. Most of the time he didn't talk about it, he was more about being there for Dawn, but when he did want to talk, she was there for him and so was Tara. In some ways his pain now was greater than before and his feeling of isolation drove him further into the shadows.

He'd told her that night on the balcony of the Bronze, that she belonged in the shadows with him, but he'd been wrong. Sometimes his demon did the talking for him instead of the man she made him aspire to be. Yeah, she needed someone who could understand her dark side, accept it as part of her and not judge her for it, hell he even loved her for it. She needed that, but she belonged in the light. If he dragged her into the darkness he had to accept that she would never again be the girl he fell in love with. He had to hope that he had enough love to bring all three of them, her, him and his demon into the light. 

The big problem with that was it didn't seem to matter what he did, however much he had changed, no-one accepted him for who he was now. If Spike did good, it was because the chip made him good, or worse he was doing it to get into Buffy's knickers, to indulge his perverted obsession. (It could never be love – he didn't have a soul – he couldn't love anyone.) If Spike did bad that was because he was an evil soulless demon. People he would give his life to protect lived in fear of the day the chip would malfunction not realising that it had never kept them safe. It would be just as easy for him to call in the Order of Taraka now as it was years before. The chip stopped him feeding, but that was about it. Maybe some day someone other than Dawn would realise that. 

Bloody hell! If he didn't watch it he'd be getting as broody as the Great Poof! Spike rested against a nearby monument to light another cigarette and take another swig from the flask, finally emptying it. Sighing heavily, he stood once more and forgetting the idea of further patrolling he quickened his pace towards home. 

As he made his way up the gentle slope that marked the end of his walk home, he became aware of something out of place. He slowed trying to work out what was amiss. Then he realised. The crypt door was ajar. Momentarily it crossed his mind that whilst he'd detoured around half a dozen cemeteries, Buffy had come straight here and was waiting inside for him to return. No, that was too much to hope for. She only came to him when her desire overcame her will. He prepared himself for a fight, wishing he had something more than a stake in his pocket.

He moved silently up to the wall of the crypt putting his ear to the wall trying to hear who or what was waiting inside. What he heard made him more bemused than anything else. Who on earth would invite themselves into a vampire's home, and then go to sleep while they were waiting for him? But still he heard snoring. He edged around the door as quietly as he could, just in case there was more than one intruder in his home.

"Willy?" Spike took a leaf from the Slayer's book and threw one of the larger unlit candles at the form asleep in his armchair. Spike watched, as the former bartender jerked awake. He knew that in the dimly lit tomb he could at least see better than the man and he intended to use that to his best advantage. He lit a cigarette, knowing the play of light and shadow the action created would work to dramatic effect.

"I didn't know that I'd sent out any invitations, Willy."

"Spike, no, well, you didn't."

Spike cut him off before he got any further. "So why would you be here? I hope you've got a good reason, Willy?" Give someone a century to practise and to a coward like Willy the threat will sound convincing even if he knows you can't back it up.

"Well, I th-thought someone better stay to tell you that your other visitor had been. I'm just a messenger. The delivery's downstairs." He rose from the chair and edged past Spike to the door and out. 

Spike didn't move making Willy's exit somewhat awkward, but neither did he prevent him leaving. After all, what could he do? He could hold him, stop him leaving, but Willy was just a body for hire and he'd lay odds of a hundred to one the same lawyer who visited him hired Willy. He had nothing to gain from keeping him there. He couldn't beat any information out of him 

Willy smiled in satisfaction as he left the crypt. Some people had it coming to them, and he'd been there to see it. He remembered how Spike had made him grab a deliberately dropped bill from the sewer water years before. Yeah some people thought they were so great but sooner or later they got their comeuppance. 

Spike forced himself to stay still till he finished the cigarette. He lit his paraffin lamp and moved down to the lower crypt to survey the damage. It couldn't be too bad could it. Anything that would fit through the entrance couldn't lay more than a couple of medium sized eggs, or maybe a lot of small ones. So how was it that his bedroom looked like a leftover set from Aliens?

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End of chapter 2

Next chapter: A little bit of Willy

A chunk of Riley (Boo Hiss)

A goodly portion of Spike and Buffy


	3. Chapter 3

**In the Name of Love **

By Tales of Spike 

Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy etc. own all the characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. It's their ball, and as soon as money is involved they take it home. That's why this is totally free, gratis and non-profit making. Bah!

Some text and scenes from the episode "As You Were" by Douglas Petrie have been used, but since on the whole the episode is an abomination I refuse to say thank you. I will say thank you to the creators of "The Princess Bride" and let it be known that in my stories it's assumed that everyone, even the Big Bad has seen that film. Thanks to them for the phrase "As you wish".

Thanks again to Joan the English chick and www.psyche.kn-bremen.de for transcripts since "As You Were" still hadn't reached the UK when I originally wrote this.

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A/N: Thanks to everyone that has reviewed. Considering this is a repost I'd say it's doing pretty well for reviews and I am extremely grateful.

Bearing in mind that part of the reason for new readers may be down to some of you not being able to read it in its original NC-17 format, I REALLY NEED TO KNOW IF UPGRADING THE STORY TO AN R RATING IS GOING TO EXCLUDE READERS. So, if you are reading this now, but won't be able to if the rating changes, please let me know.

Also, I've had a request for e-mail notification on updates. Since it's as easy to do this for two or four or ten as it is for one, if anyone else wishes to be similarly warned, let me know.

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Chapter 3

Spike took a sip from his bottle of beer and returned his attention to the volume in his hand. The cover promised it was a "spine-chilling trip through a world of horror" but as far as Spike was concerned it was more of a comedy.

"Oh, Puh-lease!" He threw the book into the far corner of the room, picking up another from a pile of half a dozen next to the sarcophagus he was using as a couch. This one was a poetry anthology. He smiled wryly at the contrast between his reading material and the punk compilation tape playing in the background. Oh well, no one would ever say he was one-dimensional. 

After he'd got back last night he'd made a few careful trips to the lower level of his crypt, bringing up everything he needed to live in the upper level for the next few days. He'd made up a bed cum couch on top of the room's central stone coffin. He'd brought up enough reading material for the week, and since he couldn't get at his albums and turntable he'd rigged up an old tape deck and brought his tapes in from the car. Barring minor inconveniences like the lack of a proper bed, he was pretty well set up, for a while at least.

He picked up his beer again and made himself comfy on his new sofa. It'd be a change just to have a quiet night in

* * * * *

Willy had moved up in the world, literally. He was seldom seen working behind his bar anymore. It didn't pay – too many people – not least of whom was the slayer, preferred to beat information out of him rather than pay for it.

Instead, he remained secluded in his office upstairs. Surprisingly the office was tastefully furnished. In fact, it was fairly reminiscent of an Ikea catalogue, with pale blue walls, cream carpeting and beech office furniture. Six portable TVs were mounted on the wall facing his desk. Four showed different monochrome views of the bar. The remaining two showed the toilets, from such an angle that it was fairly certain that _nothing_ went on his bar that Willy didn't know about.

Most of the time he got on with his paperwork and ignored the screens. Occasionally there would be a small electronic beep and he would look up to see who had entered or left the bar. Sometimes, his attention would be drawn to a particular group or individual. Then he could zoom in on that area and pick up the feed from the nearest concealed microphones. The clientele weren't aware of his presence, they were often less guarded than if he was hanging round, but he could still hear everything they were saying. It made life so much easier.

Tonight he was a bit jumpier than usual. He was expecting at least one visitor. When the visitor turned out to be Riley Finn he shook his head in amazement. Willy started a VCR and settled in for an evening's entertainment. Finn would swallow the line he was about to be fed. He'd believe it because it was what he wanted to believe.

* * * * *

Riley looked around the room hoping to find a demon small enough for him to intimidate it into giving him the information he wanted. He'd ditched the wife and the ex earlier. It would have been embarrassing to have them with him when he went to see his vampire ho. However unbeknown to him Buffy had dusted his little pal and all her friends and burned their old home to the ground, so he'd only had one option left. Willy's. His luck wasn't in. There was nothing small enough to be afraid of him.

Thank goodness he'd gone to the ATM before he went there. The barman saw him checking the number of bills in his wallet as he approached the bar. He made an upward revision to the amount of money he wanted before he would point Riley in the right direction.

Finn tried to look mean and impressive. The facial scar helped a lot (but then that was why he'd done it in the first place). He still couldn't quite pull it off though. Without his steroid diet to give him some sort of edge, he really was just an overgrown farm boy.

"What'll it be?" said the barman.

"I don't want a drink. I just want some information and then I'm out of here."

"Probably just as well. I prefer it when I don't have to mop blood up off the floor."

"I'm looking for a dealer. He calls himself the Doctor." Riley slid a twenty-dollar bill toward the barman.

"I think I've heard a few people use that name the last couple of days."

"Which people?"

The barman looked at the twenty and raised an eyebrow in Riley's direction. Riley drew out another bill… and then another.

The barman reached out for the money, making sure he had a good grip on it before nodding in the direction of the corner of the bar.

The demons at the corner table put up a good show of wanting nothing to do with Riley or his kind. This was true. They weren't too keen on the demon hunters of Sunnydale, whether government or slayer-affiliated. That was why, last year, they'd beaten Spike to a pulp and dumped him in the alley behind the bar. Apart from the location of the eggs, it was the only truthful bit of information that Riley bought with the remaining contents of his wallet.

* * * * *

Spike's head shot up from his book. The tape he'd been listening to, had long since run out and the remainder of his beer was warm and flat. He'd been too engrossed in his book to notice. Nothing, however, would prevent him being aware of the slayer's approach. He heard the change in her footfalls that marked where she left the footpath to cut across the grass to his crypt. He lowered his gaze to his book once more, deciding to opt for the casual approach.

The crypt door slammed open on cue and he looked up apparently surprised. He used the time it took Buffy to stride into the room to check out her new ninja look. '_Not bad – not bad at all…_' he thought.

"Buffy. Hey now," Spike stalled, whilst he tried to work out if she was in a "get naked" hurry to see him or a "kick Spike" hurry to see him. "If I'd-a known you were coming, I'd-a baked a cake." Oops he thought. That's probably verging on being too old for Giles to remember never mind Buffy.

Buffy strode towards him whilst removing her gloves. Spike tried to work out if this was so she didn't get blood on them when she mashed his face to a pulp. She was within range now for an easy kick, but still too far apart for a caress.

"I need information." Buffy totally ignored his opening stall.

Inwardly Spike prayed that she wasn't going to ask about demon eggs, of course he wasn't too sure as to who would be listening to him. He didn't want to think about the mess he was in if that's what she wanted. Instead he turned on the charm.

"Well, suppose I could be helpful. If the price is right." He raised a scarred eyebrow and tilted his head forward so that she received the full benefit of his cerulean gaze. "I'm not sure I'm selling out at Double Meat Palace wages though." He looked her up and down meaningfully, hinting at an altogether more pleasant accommodation between them.

Buffy dropped her gloves onto the makeshift bed. Despite Spike's endeavours Buffy seemed to maintain a business attitude. 'Please not demon eggs… please not demon eggs…' chanted Spike's internal voice.

"I need to find a guy. Dealer. Calls himself the Doctor"

"Human?" asked Spike, relieved to be off the hook.

"His traffic isn't."

"Clock ticking?" asked Spike, hope blossoming that he would be able to spend some time with his beloved.

"Whatever he's doing he's doing it soon."

Once again Spike let his gaze travel down her body and back up ending by gazing into her hazel eyes.

"Soon but not now?"

For a second Buffy stood unable to do anything but stare into the sapphire depths of his eyes and the emotions she saw in them brought life to her own numb heart.

Softly she begged him, "tell me you love me."

Surprise and hope flared through Spike's entire being. Almost as if his heart were truly beating, blood rushed from the core of his body to every extremity, making him feel truly alive.

"I love you. You know I do." His astonishment showed in his voice.

"Tell me you want me." Buffy moved a few steps closer.

In response to her gentle tone his reply came out in a whisper. "I always want you. In point of fact…"

"Shut up" Buffy cut in before Spike managed to break the mood with another all too frank revelation.

She reached up looking into his face. Her arms reached around his neck and she guided him towards the crypt, lying down and pulling him on top of her.

Her fingers fumbled with the top buttons of his shirt. Spike in turn pulled at the fastenings of her kevlar vest. She looked up at his face, taking a moment to memorise the deep hollows and smooth planes and the look of wonderment that filled those beautiful blue eyes. She pulled the partially unbuttoned shirt down over his shoulders effectively trapping his arms and temporarily stilling his efforts to remove her clothing. She used the shirt to pull him down towards her waiting mouth for a kiss.

Their lips met in the softest of caresses and after a few seconds she opened her mouth to him moaning gently as she lay back beneath him. He leaned forward probing her mouth with his cool tongue, her own response similarly gentle but intimate. Only his superb abdominal muscles allowed him to maintain his balance without the use of his arms. Finally he flexed his upper arms and popped the next two buttons on his shirt so that he could balance on his elbows above her rather than falling helplessly on top of her. 

He looked down at her face. For once it was calm and open. He allowed himself the gentle caresses he'd always wanted to give her, rather than the rough passion that had become their stock in trade. His fingertips traced the lines of her face and then moved gently down the curves of her neck. He watched her until she opened her eyes once more and when she did he opened his heart to her completely.

"I do love you, you know, and there's nothing dark in it. It's nothing like the way I felt about Dru. This _is_ pure, and it _is_ clean and it _is_ true. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a good person. I'll never be perfect. I'll always make mistakes and some of them will be bad ones. The way I feel about you…" He paused and then tried to find a different way to say what he meant.

"There's a demon inside me, but there's a man as well. For a hundred and twenty years the demon had free rein, but it's the person they both make together who loves you and if you let him he'll keep the demon in check. _I_ can keep the demon in check.

I don't always think about things the way a human would anymore, so I tend to do or say the wrong thing, but you have to believe my intentions are good. You make me want to be better than I'm made to be.

I'll still irritate you, and we'll still fight. If you ever tell me you love me I'll be even cockier and more obnoxious than ever before. The Whelp'll still hate me. I'll still act like a total prick when some other guy comes near you but I'll worship you till the day I'm dust. You mean everything to me, love."

All the while he talked he continued to stroke her face and neck. He scanned her face for the first sign of rejection; ready to shut up the second she distanced herself from him.

She didn't respond. No answering declaration of love was forthcoming, but for the first time she listened to what he had to say. She let him into her mind and into her heart as well as into her body.

He lowered his face to hers once more reclaiming her lips. Tonight he would show her the difference between sex and making love.

* * * * *

Some time later, she lay naked in his arms basking in the afterglow of her fourth orgasm and his first.

"Spike?"

"Mmhm", he mumbled, his chin resting on top of her head.

"You know all those times you call me love?"

"Mmhm"

"It's never been luv. L. U. V. Has it?"

He lifted his head and pulled back to look at her. "No, pet, it hasn't, at least not for a very long time." She buried her head on his shoulder, hiding her eyes.

"Don't stop saying it. I know I told you not to, but whatever happens so long as you mean it, keep saying it."

He held her close and whispered in her ear.

"As you wish, love, as you wish."

****

End of chapter 3

Next chapter: A little bit of Spike and Buffy

Riley sticks his nose in where it isn't wanted

Spike goes to see an old friend


	4. Chapter 4

In the Name of Love 

****

By Tales of Spike

****

Disclaimer: All the characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN and lots of other people who aren't me. "As You Were" was written by Douglas Petrie. He's not me either.

Thank you again to Joan the English chick and www.psyche.kn-bremen.de for transcripts since as I write this "As You Were" still hadn't reached the UK. 

****

A/N: I've rated this chapter as R. If anyone wants to take issue with that then I would be grateful if they could contact me and I'll take immediate steps to remedy the situation, rather than reporting me and getting all my stuff wiped off. 

I waited three days, and no kiddies came forward to say they were reading this, so if their parental controls are locking them out now, tough. Hope all you adults enjoy it.

Thanks again for all the reviews. When I originally posted this, some people thought I'd been unduly harsh to Riley, but it was never my intention to give a totally unbiased representation of his character. Any exaggerations and outright libels in regard to the tin soldier are done a) for comic relief and b) as a means to vent my frustration at having to put up with him for about a series and a half. To those who were quite happy with the Riley bashing, I expect there will be some more to come. 

****

Chapter 4

Buffy rolled over, so that she was lying with her back against Spike's chest, wiggling her hips as she did so to couch herself snugly against Spike's lower body. Spike immediately felt his body react.

"Buffy, if you're just trying to get into a comfy sleeping position, you should know that wrigglin' about like a terrier down a rabbit hole when you've got that cute little bum of yours up against me is not going to lead to any sleep for either of us."

He smoothed away the hair at the back of her neck, and placed a trail of feather-light kisses down from her hairline to the base of her neck and then along her collarbone. 

Buffy gave a small gasp at the contact with her sensitive skin. "Then it is _so_ of the good that slayers only need a couple of hours sleep." She again adjusted the position of her hips, this time deliberately rubbing in small circles against Spike's abdomen and rapidly growing erection.

"Is that a challenge, Slayer? I think you'll find vampire stamina at least a match for your staying power." His arm draped itself across her body, his fingers gently circling around the flesh at the inside of her opposite elbow, alternately caressing with his fingertips and lightly scratching with his nails. Despite Buffy's apparent eagerness, he had no intention of being rushed.

She rolled over once more to face him. "Prove it," she murmured, before she prevented any further discussion with a kiss.

* * * * *

Given the stubbornness of the couple involved, it's perhaps surprising that they got any sleep at all, but eventually Spike's gentle stroking began to have a calming effect rather than a sensual one. 

Buffy drifted off to sleep feeling cherished and protected. For several long minutes Spike lay and watched her sleeping form, still marvelling at the new level of intimacy they had shared. Then his eyes also drifted shut and he slept. 

* * * * *

Of the two, Spike was the first to come back to his senses when his crypt door was slammed open once more. "Well looky here." Spike propped himself up on his elbows to get a better view of his adversary. His grin was wolfish, predatory and inordinately smug all at the same time. Soldier-boy was in town. Judging by the matching outfits, she'd seen him before she came here, but she'd still chosen to spend the night with him. And it hadn't just been about sex either. Nope, Spike had good reason to believe that Buffy was "his" now, and boy was the kid going to know about it. Anyway, if she wasn't prepared to tell Dawn or the Scoobies she couldn't complain if he took his fun where he could, could she? After all, he had warned her. He was "Mr Passive Aggressive Guy" 

"I don't normally use the word delicious but I've gotta wager this little tableau must sting a bit, eh? Me and your former? Must kill. What can I say? Girl needs a little monster in her man."

Spike thought he was being quite good. He hadn't even mentioned that fact that if someone felt they needed a gun _that_ big they must be trying to compensate for something. He was a bit less happy when he noticed that Buffy was looking upset. He'd been expecting pissed, he knew she'd tear a strip off him after, but hey, it's a guy thing. What had her upset?

"Not why I'm here… Doctor."

'What the _fuck_ did he just call me? He'll have her thinking everything that happened last night was just to fob her off. Oh hell, she's off again, there she goes grabbing clothes, five minutes and she'll be out the bloody door, and this time it's his fault not mine'

"Here I thought we'd run you out of town, mate. Last time I saw you, if memory serves, you were getting the juice sucked out of you by some undead ladies of very questionable reputation." Spike's eyes were hard. If the hall monitor wanted to make him look bad in front of Buffy then he sure as hell wasn't going to come out of it looking like her knight in shining armour.

Spike sat up and since Buffy had departed with the blanket Riley got to see rather more than he wanted to. Spike smirked again, confident than Riley would currently be experiencing some feelings of inadequacy.

"Now be a good tin soldier and, uh…" He waved his hand at Riley as if to urge the soldier to run along like a good little boy. If only he could get rid of the git before Buffy finished getting dressed, then he might get her to listen to some sort of explanation, but damned if he'd say anything in front of her ex.

"Where are they… Doctor?"

"Where are what, and why do you keep calling me that?" 

This guy was really getting on his tits. Still if he was going to have to physically throw him out he'd better out some clothes on. He had his jeans half way on when he wondered whether just shoving him out the door would make the chip go off. Nah, couldn't, could it?

"Glad to be back in Sunnydale. The locals all speak English, and I know who to beat for information. It's all brought me here."

He really believes that, doesn't he? Up until he started getting suck jobs he spent a year and a half turning every non-human resident of Sunnydale he met into over-sized lab-rats. Now he thinks they're going to spill their secrets to him. Wanker. Either that or he'd got to Willy and Willy was covering his own ass, but with the eggs downstairs Spike could hardly argue his innocence. Time for diversionary tactics.

"Look, crew cut." Spike finished fastening the buckle on his belt and treated Riley to one of his better glares. "She's not your bint anymore. And if I can speak frankly, she always had a little thing for me, even when she was shagging you."

"Nice. That's very distracting." Now that Spike had covered up Riley was able to slightly overcome his feelings of inadequacy and he moved closer to better brandish his over-sized gun. "Now tell me, before I get unprofessional… where are the eggs, Spike?"

Shit, deny it, deny everything… you smoked but you didn't inhale, no that only works if you're the president.

"Eggs? Phht… You're off your nut. It must be those drugs they were keeping you on. I did warn you."

"Okay. We can do this the hard way, or we can do this the fatal way."

'_Bring it on_,' thought Spike. '_I've been tortured by a Hell god and he thinks he can get me to talk._'

Riley punched Spike in the face hard enough to knock him back slightly. "Where are the eggs?" 

Buffy emerged from her hiding place, now fully dressed. She got in between the two men. "Look, the Doctor, it can't be Spike."

'_Great! Now she's making me look like some wimp. Maybe I can't hit the pillock back, but if I can take a hiding off of Buffy I can sure as hell take anything he can deal out._' No sooner did the thought go through his mind than the words came from his mouth. "No need to defend me, love_." 'Wait a minute. Is she saying she thinks I'm innocent?_' Further ruminations along this line were interrupted as Buffy punched him. Nevertheless, inside his head Spike did a little dance for joy. She trusted him.

"Look, i-it can't be, okay? He-he's too incompetent." The little guy in Spike's head suddenly stopped dancing, smacked himself on the forehead, and fell over backwards. Spike glared at Buffy, dumbstruck that after all he'd done for her and all he'd been through, that this was how she thought of him.

"Right." Riley replied. "Deadly… amoral…opportunistic." '_Yeah he'd been teaching Buffy lots of amoral little activities every opportunity he got._' Spike couldn't help it the smirk came back. "Or have you forgotten?"

Buffy glared at her former boyfriend, but with Spike apparently agreeing with every word of the description how could she argue. Beaten, she turned away.

"I'm taking this place apart until I find that nest."

"Over my dead body." No way was this guy going to come into his home and start ordering him around.

"I've seen enough of your dead body for one night, thanks."

Riley used the barrel of his shotgun to push Spike to one-side. He went to walk past but Spike grabbed his shoulder to turn him round ready for a punch.

"Well, you're not gonna…" Spike was prevented from completing his quip as Riley pushed him back again and he stumbled against one of the pillars. Riley descended the ladder into the lower room. Then his voice called back up from below. "You coming?"

Buffy looked up, looking into Spike's face. Spike stared back willing her to have some faith in him. Riley was making her choose between the two of them and to Spike if she went with Riley then it meant that she didn't believe that he'd changed. Either way Riley would find the eggs, but if she had enough faith in him to stay here with him maybe she would believe the truth. He held her gaze for what seemed the longest time.

She looked away and followed Riley. A part of him knew that he'd lost her.

* * * * *

In his pain, he lashed out desperately. "Oh this is… unconstitutional, is what it is! Here! There's nothing to see down there!" As he continued what he knew was a pointless rant he grabbed his shirt up off the floor and shoved his arms into the sleeves.

For a few seconds he listened as Buffy tried to defend him, and it hurt all over again when she used the incompetent defence. When he heard her pleading stop in mid sentence he knew they'd found them. The Big Bad wanted to leave before he had to look in her eyes, but the Fool, he had to rush to her and try to get her to understand. Spike pelted down the stairs and ran into the room.

"I can explain…"

He was cut off by Riley. "We're gonna need more weapons. Spike screwed up. You didn't keep them frozen, did you… Doctor?" He appeared as far as Spike could tell to be doing his best to make the situation seem worse. The things weren't going anywhere for a good few days yet, or so he'd been told. Either soldier-boy was exaggerating or this whole thing was a set up.

"You can stop calling me that anytime." He turned towards Buffy his tone softening considerably. "If I may: the thing of it is, I'm holding these for a friend…" (or three) he added mentally, "who-."

Spike's nose exploded under Buffy's fist, spraying blood across his face. He hardly noticed that the blow had also knocked him over.

"No more games, Spike."

Pure, unadulterated rage filled Spike from head to toe. After months his frustration at her insensitive, manipulative and outright abusive treatment of him flowed out.

"Well, that's bloody funny coming from you! No more games?"

Buffy rolled her eyes at him, only incensing him further.

"That's all you've ever done is play me, and keep playing with the rules you make up as you like! You know what I am – you've always known and you come to me all the same!"

"Can you shut him up?" The enormous git couldn't even have the decency to speak to him as if he were a person when he interrupted. Instead he spoke to Buffy as if he was her dog, that she should muzzle.

"Not so far." Buffy replied.

Spike turned and stormed out the crypt pausing only to grab his duster and his keys. He was barely out the door, when he heard them start shooting up the place. He couldn't bring himself to go back. There was nothing he could do about Iowa-boy, and he didn't trust himself around Buffy when he was this mad. It was only stuff. 

He was half way to the road when he heard the blast of the first grenade, and he turned in time to see light from the second blast through the crypt doorway as the rest of the belt went up.

"What a _fuckin'_ bitch!"

His eyes welled up and he tried to hold on to the anger he felt inside, because if he didn't he would be lying there crying his eyes out when she came out.

* * * * *

He got onto the motorbike and headed for a local off-licence. He didn't want to go to the Bronze or the demon bar where he played kitten-poker or anywhere where he might see anyone he knew or where he'd been with her. He even thought about heading for the garage where he had the de Soto and leaving town. She hadn't actually dumped him but blowing up his home pretty much said it all. He didn't notice the first few tears as they rolled diagonally down his cheeks. He told himself it was just the wind in his eyes and he kept telling himself that until he got off the bike at the liquor store. After that he just decided to ignore them, and hell help the teller if he said anything. He went through and picked up a bottle of Glenmorangie. Tonight was for slow drinking. He had to let his troubles go, not drown them. He had a sudden inspiration.

He reached for a bottle of vodka and took both bottles to the counter. He threw a bundle of notes at the teller and walked back to the bike. He had to go see someone.

He unscrewed the top of the vodka bottle, and poured a drink for his companion.

"Always thought that was a stupid idea, you know. Waste of good booze. Who made it up anyway, was it the Irish or was it you yanks? Well, right now it seems better than drinking alone."

He made sure to avoid the wet patch over the grave when he sat down.

"So how are you, Joyce, how's things up in heaven? Things aren't goin' that great down here, not for anyone, well 'cept Harris. He's getting' wed next week to his little ex-demon…" So Spike told Joyce what was happening in Sunnydale. How Dawn had been having problems, but that he'd be there to help her. How he wanted to help Buffy, but now she wouldn't ever trust him. How he'd lost that trust, trying to save her and now he thought she was going to get back with Riley. He wondered whether Joyce had ever thought Captain Cardboard would make Buffy happy. He told her how he hoped Joyce would have been happy for him and Buffy. How he would have looked after her. How much he missed Joyce herself. He told her about what had happened on Passions… and everything else that was on his mind. He sat all night talking and it was nearly dawn when he sought refuge in the sewer system.

End of Chapter 4 Next chapter: The break up (all official like) 

The eggs are gone and Spike has no way of knowing if he's done enough to save the women in his life. Before he can set off to do anything about it, he has to say his goodbyes to the people he's leaving behind, especially Dawn.


	5. Chapter 5

**In the Name of Love **

By Tales of Spike

****

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer except for a certain bleach blonde vampire in my very best dreams. Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN and lots of other people own him the rest of the time, and all the others too. I didn't write the dialogue for Buffy dumping Spike. I couldn't make up anything that would make those blue eyes that miserable. It's all Douglas Petrie's fault.

Thank you again to Joan the English chick and www.psyche.kn-bremen.de for transcripts. I sort of regret to say that I have now seen "As You Were" but transcripts still help, especially with any bits that might vaguely refer to "Hell's Bells".

Thanks again for all the reviews. It's good to know that someone's still reading this, even second time round.

Anyone who wants to be notified when the chapters are posted up, just let me know your email and I'll add you to the list.

****

Chapter 5

Spike stood in the middle of what had once been his home and surveyed the wreckage. The area was strewn with rubble, and a layer of soot covered much of the room. At first glance it appeared that none of his furniture or possessions had survived the blast in tact.

He pushed a bit of the rubble aside with his foot, and then realising it just wasn't going to make the least bit of difference he sighed and gave up.

He recognised her perfume before she got anywhere near him, and he kept his gaze on the floor, refusing to let her see how much he was hurt. This was her cue to tell him she was leaving him for Captain Cardboard.

"So she's back. Thought you'd be off snoggin' with soldier boy."

"He's gone."

"So, you come for a bit of cold comfort?" The smallest flicker of hope was there on his face as he met her eyes, but even that wasn't enough to keep the misery from his voice when he continued. "The bed's a bit blown up, but then, that was never our-."

"I'm not here to-." The shadows of his face hid his eyes, but his pain was evident. 

"And I'm not here to bust your chops about your stupid scheme, either. That's just you. I should have remembered."

"So this is worse then, is it, this is you telling me-."

"It's over."

"I've memorised this tune, love. Think I have the sheet music. Doesn't change what you want." He moved through the steps of their dance as he had so often before, but this time he knew the ending would be different. The confidence that normally permeated his words and gestures was absent. The man who had told her that he may be dirt but she liked to roll in it had been stripped of his pride.

"I know that." He watched her face. "I do want you." With every phrase she seemed to gain strength. "Being with you – makes things… simpler... for a little while."

"I don't call five hours straight a little while." He automatically used humour as a defence, his voice trembling.

"I'm using you… I can't love you. I'm just… being weak and selfish…"

"Really not complaining here." He begged for whatever crumbs she might offer.

"… And it's killing me." His brows furrowed and his eyes showed even more pain. The idea that she was suffering because of their relationship hurt him even more than his pain at losing her.

"I have to be strong about this. I'm sorry… William." 

As she turned and left what really tore his heart out was the fact that rejecting him seemed to make her more whole. For the first time since she came back from the grave she seemed content within herself. He saw her heart and her strength, and she treated him like a man. Even as she destroyed him he fell just a little bit more in love with her. 

* * * * *

Spike waited until she was out of sight to slide to the floor. He sat for several minutes, his forearms resting on his upraised knees, his forehead resting on his forearms. He didn't cry. He'd done all the crying he was going to do last night. He'd known last night that it was over, for now. He just sat for a few minutes until he felt up to doing what he came here to do.

When he rose from the ground William was gone for now. Emotion and sensitivity weren't going to help him now. He made his way to where his television set still stood. There was no apparent damage, but he didn't bother to check whether it worked or not. He didn't have time for Passions today. Instead he looked first on top of the set, and when there was nothing there he started searching the floor round about it. He picked a piece of card up off the floor, and looked to check it was what he wanted. "Bollocks!" he said as he read it for the first time before storing it in his pocket.

He then opened up the sarcophagus and rummaging below the discoloured skeleton that lay there, he pulled out a small cash box. It occurred to him that the key was now lost somewhere in the rubble downstairs and he swore before he forcibly pulled the lid back. The notes from the box were quickly stuffed into his coat pocket. The photographs that lined the bottom of the box he left inside. He closed the lid as best he could and then replaced it back under the human remains, before he reconsidered and pulled out one photo from the box.

He grabbed the blanket from the floor, ready to make a run for the nearest sewer entrance and refused to allow himself to be distracted by the scents of Buffy's perfume and last night's love-making which still permeated the fabric. 

He silently cursed himself for not caving in and buying a cell-phone before now and tried to figure out how to best get to a phone-box. Eventually, he decided just to get to a mall as quickly as he could. He would get a phone there and that meant he could just head straight for the car with no detours. 

His choice of shopping facilities was limited by the fact he had to avoid anywhere with skylights or glass atriums. Nevertheless, he thought if he used the underground parking and stayed away from the upper floors of the shopping centre he could get what he wanted without turning into a charcoal briquette. 

It was an hour later by the time he finally phoned Tara. He wasn't sure if it was fortunate or not that he got her answering machine. It did save him from answering any awkward questions.

"Hi Tinkerbell! It's Spike. I need a favour. I want you to do a spell for me. Needn't worry, I haven't taken any hostages this time. 

I need you to do a protection spell. It's probably best if you cover all the Scoobies, but especially you and Buff and the Bit. Use the best one you can get. If I haven't already spoken to her, tell demon-girl I'll cover the cost of any ingredients or whatnot when I get back, but don't tell her what they're for. She's already got her knickers in enough of a twist with the wedding coming up. Tell her your doing some sort of blessing or something. I should be around for the wedding but if I'm not don't panic. Take care."

One down.

He dialled the next number and prayed it wouldn't be Buffy who picked up the phone.

"Magic Box, for all your magical needs."

"Hi pet, it's Spike –."

"If you want to speak to Buffy she's in back but-."

"No, pet, it was you I need to speak to. The thing is- well actually there's three things. First of all I told Glinda if she needed some stuff that I would settle up with you when I see you. Is that all right?"

"Well what exactly are we talking about. I mean is it going to be a lot? -"

"I don't know, pet. She wasn't in when I rang. I just told her to get whatever she would need, books ingredients, whatever. You have my word I'll square up with you when I get back to town."

"Back… where are you Spike?"

"Why… are you going to miss me? Want to ditch Harris and come along for the ride? Can't say as I'd complain. Always thought you were far too hot a lady to be wasted on a bricklayer."

"Spike. It would make it easier to justify extending you credit if you weren't insulting my fiancé." Anya's tone suggested he got to the point.

"At the minute I'm at a phone-box in the mall but I'm heading off soon as I see The 'Bit, which brings me to the next thing. Do you know if your intended is picking her up from school today, 'cos if he is you can tell him he's got the day off."

"I think he _was_ going to get her."

"Well let him know that I'll take school bus duty. I don't want to head out of town without making sure she knows I'm coming back, especially if she sees the state my place is in."

"Okay… what happened to your place?"

"Nothing much, little farewell party. You know what gatecrashers are like…"

"Look anyway just tell your beloved that he doesn't need to swing by the school. Last thing, have you got the librarian's phone number? I need to speak to him about some stuff."

"Spike, this is all very strange. What are you up to? -"

"Don't you start. Just because I've got things to do doesn't mean I've got some evil plan afoot. Look there's some loose ends from back when I was with Dru. I've got to get them sorted out and that's as much as I'm going to tell you."

"Fine. It's Bath 373 4624, but why I'm telling you I don't know."

"Sorry, pet, that's as much as I can tell you. Anyway us ex-'Big Bad's have to stick together. I'll see you Saturday. Don't think I'll miss a chance to claim a snog from the bride." 

"I have to go anyway. There's a real customer here. One who pays for the goods when they get them."

Spike smiled quietly to himself. He really didn't know if she was serious or joking.

Two down. 

Eight hours ahead, so half past two in the afternoon means half past ten at night there.

"Bath 373 4624."

"Giles?" Spike dropped his normal accent, speaking instead in the more cultured tones he'd used in his youth.

"Yes, who's calling?"

It suddenly occurred to Spike that if his suspicions were correct then there was every chance that Giles' phone could be tapped.

"It's Randy." Spike hoped Giles would realise what he was up to. "I was just ringing to say that I've got those things for you. I'll FedEx them down to you but with your duties I expect you wouldn't be home to sign for any packages, so I thought you could possibly pick them up from the depot, if you could be so kind as to tell me which one would be most convenient."

"R-randy, right there's one in Bath city centre, I b-believe. Ehm." Spike imagined Giles cleaning his glasses. "H-how is everyone up there? All okay?"

"Everyone's fine… as far as I'm aware. Well Rupert I really must go. I don't want to keep you from your cocoa. If I get down south any time soon I'll treat you to afternoon tea at the Ritz."

Spike had to go back to the mall again to buy some stationery to send his message to Giles. He explained his suspicions and asked him to check up on a couple of things. He gave him his cell-phone number. He also put a cell-phone with a generous amount of prepaid credit in the parcel. Once everything was all wrapped up he took it straight to the FedEx office. He wanted to hear back as soon as possible. He had also included the number for the phone he was going to leave with Dawn and instructions on where in the crypt to find another cash box, larger than the one he'd raided this morning. This one contained some money, but also a number of bank account passbooks. By tomorrow Giles would have the passwords for the accounts. 

It had occurred to Spike that had Buffy not been there last night the odds were better than even he wouldn't be here now. If the kid had just found Spike with the eggs and no witnesses… who knows? Someone had set him up and they were very possibly playing for keeps. He was going to have to wait at least another eight or nine hours before he could even try to find out who it was.

He headed back to the crypt to pack. He was pleased to discover that the drawers had at least partially withstood the blast, protecting some of his clothing a bit. He found the particular piece he was looking for and got changed. The rest of his clothes he pushed into a duffle bag and lastly he picked up his duster folding it over one arm. He felt almost incomplete as he ran back to the car without it billowing behind him, his shoulders far too light without its weight on them, but that was the point, wasn't it?

He pulled up outside the school with ten minutes to spare, making sure to park so that he could open the passenger door without any sunlight hitting his side of the interior. When he saw Dawn approaching the parking lot he honked on his car horn and flung open the passenger door. Dawn rolled her eyes before coming over and throwing herself into the car.

"Jeez, and who taught you manners? Does every girl you meet just come running when you honk?"

"That would be my mother, but they didn't stick. And no," his voice softened, "not all of them. I figured you'd make allowances for me not getting out to open the door for you due to my inherent combustibility… that and the last time I tried to open a door for your sister I got a mouthful of abuse." 

He waited while a few of the cars pulled out and then swerved quickly into a gap which appeared. Dawn gripped the door handle to avoid sliding along the bench seat.

"Not that I'm not grateful, but I doubt you got the monster out of mothballs just to pick me up from school, so what gives?"

Spike decided that this was a good time to concentrate on the road, but even staring fixedly ahead he was aware of Dawn's glare.

"I'm coming back, Bit." He tried to ward off potential misunderstandings. "I'm getting out of town for a while. I wanted to say goodbye and I wanted to give you something to look after till I come back." Spike kept darting glances at Dawn's face as he spoke, trying to gauge her reaction. "I don't know how long I'm going to be gone. I might have to make a couple of trips." He pulled over to the side of the road so that he could give her his full attention.

Dawn looked somewhere between pissed off and deeply hurt. Tears began to well up in her eyes.

"You're just like all the rest. Why should I care if you go? It's not as if you care. You don't come round anymore, or at least you don't come in. You hang around in the yard chain smoking to catch a glimpse of Buffy, but you can't come in and actually see me. Do you think I don't know where the heaps of cigarette butts come from? I'm not an idiot. Four and a half months she was dead and you were all Big Brother. Have to go to school. That's what Buffy would want. Have to do this. That's what Buffy would want, but you never gave a damn about me, did you? You just pretended you cared because that's what Buffy would want. The second she came back, you just stopped coming round. So you tell me why should I care if you leave?"

Spike was dumbstruck by her outburst. '_Bitty Buffy indeed,_' he thought. '_If something hurts lash out._'

She grabbed for the door handle and had her door halfway open before Spike could make a grab for her wrist.

"Ow, let go, you peroxide freak, or I'll scream."

He reduced the pressure on her arm but didn't let her go. He pulled her along the seat towards him away from the sunlight coming through the open door, and when she was close enough he pulled her into a hug, one hand cradling her head. Then the tears came, and just like when she'd lost Buffy, he didn't try to calm her or quiet her, he let her cry as long as she wanted. He just held her and talked quietly to her.

"You're right, love. I deserved that, or most of it at any rate. I do love you, Niblet. I'm in love with your sister, but I love you and I loved your mum. There isn't a Summers woman that I can resist. I'm pathetic, one look from any of you and I'm mush. 

I don't _want_ to leave but there's things I have to do. I'm really sorry that it has to be now. I know I haven't been around so much but things are sort of complicated with me and your sister. Imagine there was some guy that really liked you, but you thought he was an irritating wanker, and every time you come in from school, there he is sitting on the couch watching TV with Buffy. You wouldn't be too happy."

Dawn sniffled and gave a half smile. "I think you're an irritating wanker sometimes, but I like you just the same."

"Yeah, well your sister only ever got a hang of the first bit, so when it comes to her home, I try not to overstep the boundaries too much. She kind of made it plain that I should have an invite before I come round… and before you say anything, she's got a perfect right to expect peace in her own house."

"But _I_ want to see you."

"And that's why when I'm back I'll try to work something out with Big Sis, where you come to visit me. But it'll have to wait till I get back." 

"How do I know you're coming back? Maybe once you get to where you're going you'll decide to stay, or you'll meet someone who doesn't think you're an irritating wanker."

"Well, the places are concerned, bin there, there and there: done that, that and that: got all the T-shirts. As to the other, fat chance but if it were to happen I'd just have to bring them here."

"Yeah, right, so you're going to meet some other woman and bring her here to wave her under Buffy's nose?"

"Think it'd work?" He sat back and flashed Dawn his patented smirk.

"We're talking Buffy here, she'd probably throw you a parade, as long as you don't chain up the new one and threaten to kill Buffy for her. The girl has no taste."

"Thanks, and being reminded of my stupidest mistakes always makes me feel better… but seriously, you'll know I'm coming back 1) because I promised Buffy I'd look after you and that promise was given until the end of time 2) when I was talking to your mum last night-." Spike noticed the bemused expression on Dawn's face. "What? She never minded listening to me before, I don't figure she minds now. She doesn't give me any advice anymore, but hey… can't have everything. Try it sometime, in daylight. 

Anyway, I promised your mum I'd make sure I spent some time with you on a regular basis and 3) I'm going to have to come back because you're going to be looking after my duster." He pulled it from the back seat and deposited it on her lap.

"4) If you check the left pocket you'll find a cell-phone, and using that you can ring this cell-phone." He indicated a cell-phone currently connected to the car's lighter socket. "If you need me, you call, and wherever I am, whatever I am doing I will drop it and I will come straight back. Have you got that?"

"Got it!" She grinned and started experimenting with the buttons without success.

"Right, the instructions and the charger and the number for this one's in the box in the glove compartment, help yourself. It's supposed to charge for about ten hours before you can use it the first time. There's quite a bit of credit on there already, but there's a chance I'll be overseas some of the time, if I can swing it, so don't use all the credit sending messages to Janice. If you do need to phone me it might cost a bomb, which is why you use that and not the phone at home."

He produced a cloth handkerchief from his jacket and proceeded to wipe the last few tears from her face.

"I reckon this is going to cost me a couple of ice-creams now, 'cos if I take you back with red eyes Big Sis will leave the Big Bad black and blue… you have to stand in the queue though. Now shut the door."

As they both sat in the car finishing their ice creams some time later Spike asked, "So are we good?"

"We are officially of the good."

"Okay, time to take you home then." He turned the car in the direction of Revello Drive.

"Spike, what about the wedding?"

"Honestly, pet, it depends on how fast I can get hold of the paperwork I'm going to need to get on a plane for Europe. If it turns out I'd be hanging around waiting while someone knocks it all together then I'll be there. If I'm still trying to find someone who can do it or if I get it and can make a start on sorting stuff out, then no. Look, I'll send you a message every day saying where I am.

Now, do me a favour when you get in, and phone grand-papa and give him a reason not to stake me on sight when I get to LA. I don't think having him tortured made me very popular the last time I was in town."

"You do know how to win friends and influence people, don't you?"

"You tell me. You're the closest thing to a friend I've got."

The car pulled up at the kerb outside Dawn's house. To Spike's surprise Dawn kissed him on the cheek before scrambling out of the car clutching the box of phone accessories and his duster. She bent down to get in a final word.

"By the way, Spike, the new jacket's pretty cool, but it's not a patch on this."

He smirked back at her. "I know, love. Wouldn't be much point leaving it otherwise." As he recalled her sister hadn't liked the new one much either.

****

End of Chapter 5

Next chapter: Spike heads for LA

Spike/Angel plus Spike/Lorne

And how did he meet the girl he took to the wedding from hell?

Super long chapter and the quicker the reviews come in, the quicker I'll post it up.


	6. Chapter 6

In the Name of Love 

****

By Tales of Spike

****

Disclaimer: Joss owns everything. Joss is God. Still think he's cruel. Still want him to be nicer to Spikey-babe, but He is God, and He owns everything (except the bits that Fox and UPN and Mutant Enemy and all the rest own). 

Thanks again for all the reviews. Please keep sending them. The club is fictitious but is loosely based on a composite of various places I've been to, all of which were in the UK and France not the US so if things are different over there, sorry. (Yes I admit it. I have Goth type tendencies and I am old enough to remember what's changed since say ten years ago.) I had originally intended that Spike would totally avoid Angel and all his lot when he got to LA. The phone-call from Dawn to Angel was just to play safe if he bumped into him. For reasons explained in the chapter I changed my mind. I've assumed that as far as the Angel plot lines are concerned this happens a day or so after Angel gave Cordelia a stack of cash to go away with Groo, and she has. Mainly because that's as far as things had got in the show in the UK when I wrote this.

__

**This is to indicate flashbacks** Lyrics for background music are shown in normal italics

Someone asked why I insist on revisiting this awful episode.

Answer: "To make the wrong things right." The Crow.

Hope you enjoy

****

Chapter 6

Spike rubbed his cheek, and gave a rueful smile. At least one of the Summers women thought he was worthy of some affection. He pulled away before Dawn got to the front door, not wanting to see Buffy again, just yet.

He made a last stop at a butcher's to fill the cooler in the trunk of the De Soto, and he headed for the freeway. He turned over the tape in the deck and turned the volume up high.

As the opening bars played, he thought to himself, 'Yeah, very funny'. Just the same he sang along.

(1_) You disturb my natural emotions_

You make me feel I'm dirt and I'm hurt

And if I cause a commotion

I run the risk of losing you and that's worse

As he sang along he found he was trying to analyse what was going on and what had gone wrong between him and Buffy.

Right up until that last night, she had treated him like dirt, and he had let her. This morning he'd practically begged her to keep doing it. That wasn't healthy. He was a sick sick puppy.

Okay so if she tries that again you pull her on it, and if she won't treat you like a man then you walk away or you throw her out or whatever it takes. You don't let her turn it into a fistfight and you don't let her use you for a punching bag. You don't let her treat you like some sort of sex-toy. You don't let her treat you like something she's ashamed of. She was right. She was using you and it had to stop. You definitely don't say stuff that tells her you have no respect for yourself, and if she chooses to be with you that makes her worse. _**I may be dirt, but you're the one who likes to roll in it, Slayer**._

Right, she had used him. He had let her. Both were big mistakes, but nothing that couldn't be sorted out if they made a fresh start. If he could convince her that she wanted to make a fresh start.

__

Ever fallen in love with someone

Ever fallen in love in love with someone

Ever fallen in love in love with someone you shouldn't have fallen in love with?

I can't see much of a future

Unless we find out what's to blame, what a shame.

And we won't be together much longer

Unless we realise that we are the same.

Right, so, reasons why she wouldn't want to make a fresh start.

She seems to think he's a total wanker incapable of doing anything right, or that's what she said in front of soldier-boy anyway… Could she have been covering? Maybe she didn't believe it really; maybe she didn't want to give away in front of white bread that she cared, maybe a bit. I mean most of the time they arranged to patrol together. Why would she want him around if she really thought that? Surely that would put her in danger? 

Yeah, when they were on opposite sides he'd never really got the better of her, but if her mum hadn't shown up it would all have been over in the school. He'd have had her in their first fight. All the rest was just luck, timing? And all those years she'd never managed to kill him either. How many vamps had been around the Slayer as long as he had, even just counting pre-Initiative time and were still alive. Bollocks to incompetent!

He was supposedly evil. 

Spike liked to think he didn't kid himself about himself. He knew that these days the Big Bad was a persona he wore on occasion, not who he was anymore. He knew that when it came to being evil he was way down in line, well behind the people from the IRS. Apart from the violent side of his relationship with Buffy and some occasional shoplifting, he'd not done anything for months… until the eggs. She was as much to blame as he was for the violence. He'd willingly accept more than half the blame for that first night, and she'd been in a worse state the next morning than he'd ever intended, but she'd given as good as she got and he hadn't regretted a single bruise on his body. 

Wait up though. He was feeling bad because she turned it from a knockdown drag-out fight into foreplay. If they'd fought each other to a stand-off, called the honours even and then gone for a drink or something he wouldn't feel guilty. It was because she jumped his bones that everything started to seem perverted. And he'd only started the fight to prove that she couldn't just beat him down whenever she didn't want to hear what he had to say. She'd been taking slugs at him knowing or at least thinking she knew that he couldn't hit back.

Yes, he'd had dreams about fighting with her where the fighting led to sex, but he never fantasised about hurting her. The fights were more like sparring matches, almost choreographed into a rough and tumble ballet. Hurting her was not part of his fantasies. He had a kink, where fighting and sex were linked, but it was all to do with adrenaline and competition, not inflicting pain for the sake of pain. Yeah, so they both got in a few bites and scratches, but that was using pain as a stimulus not some sadistic crap.

Okay, when it came to sex, he wasn't exactly a vanilla kind of guy. Maybe there were some people who would say he was evil because of that, but he'd never believed that there was anything wrong about the giving and receiving of pleasure between consenting adults. He'd had a hundred and twenty years to practice. If you were the kind of guy that cared about pleasing your partners, rather than the stick it in, wiggle it about, roll over and expect them to be grateful type, (somehow he had Riley pegged as the latter), then you could pick up a hell of a lot in that sort of time. **_I'm disgusted with myself… the most perverse degrading experience of my life… maybe you get off on it, but it's not my style._** She couldn't still feel that way, could she? She'd come to him plenty of times since then. If she was disgusted by what they did, would she keep coming back? Or had he turned her into some sort of junkie, hating herself but coming to him for her next fix. Had he done that to her? _… **But you like what I do to you?** _ She hadn't admitted it, but there had certainly been no denial, and she'd looked more shy than shamed. 

Last night, up until action man's entrance, had been the most incredible night of his life. Back in the day wedding vows included the phrase, "with this body I thee worship." That was what last night had been to him. Surely, she must have felt at least some fraction of what he had. There had been real feeling there, one-sided perhaps, but genuine emotion just the same. There was no way she could think there was anything depraved about last night. 

He had to believe that whilst it may have taken her a while to come to terms with her sexuality, she had now. The only other possible interpretation made his undead flesh crawl. He couldn't bear to think that when she left him, she went home and scrubbed her body, exfoliating to remove the taint of his unclean hands. 

So until he had some evidence to the contrary, he would assume she's okay with the sex. Then the only evidence that he is still evil, is the eggs. And he was dealing with that problem. 

The serial killer in jail theory 

Therein lies the tough one. Maybe if GI Joe hadn't shown up last night she could have grown gradually into feeling safe with him. She might have come to trust that it was coming to care about her and Dawn and the people they cared about that made him act differently. Not the chip.

Now, if he wanted her to agree to a fresh start for their relationship then he had to convince her that she wouldn't be put into the position of becoming close to him and then having to kill him when he changed. He knew that convincing her to try again was going to involve a fair amount of rationalisation. An emotional response to their present status was far too likely to lead to a repetition of the mistakes they had already made and was to be avoided. But if he was to make an appeal to her on a logical basis then this all too logical fear would have to be addressed first.

Her history of abandonment 

Like the last problem he blamed this one to a large extent on Angel. All the key male figures in her life except Harris and him had walked out on her. Every man she'd ever loved. Every man she'd slept with up until him and bloody hell the first two had, in a sense, been one night stands. Was that part of her rejection that morning in the house. Was she subconsciously trying to reject him before he rejected her? That almost made too much sense. There was only one thing that would really convince her he was different. Time.

He doesn't leave. He sorts out this mess with the contract, he sees about the chip and he goes home and he stays. As long as she's there or Dawn's there Sunnydale is home.

__

Ever fallen in love with someone

Ever fallen in love in love with someone

Ever fallen in love in love with someone you shouldn't have fallen in love with? 

If he could take time back, so that he never fell in love with her, would he do it? Where would he be now if not for his feelings for her? A vampire who couldn't hunt. Following Dru, letting her hunt for him. That would have killed him. In the end it would have been worse than being in that sodding wheel chair. She wouldn't have respected him. It would have been doomed. It would have lasted a couple of months and she'd have been off with some demon or another. 

__

You disturb my natural emotions

You make me feel I'm dirt and I'm hurt

And if I cause a commotion

I'll only end up losing you and that's worse.

Ever fallen in love with someone

Ever fallen in love in love with someone

Ever fallen in love in love with someone you shouldn't have fallen in love with?

Or he could be stuck living a totally isolated existence. If he hadn't fallen for her his contact with the Scoobies would be strictly when they were paying him. There would never have been any sort of connection. No Bit. He rubbed his cheek again. He didn't kid himself that they accepted him, but at least they all tolerated him, and Dawn cared for him as he did for her. 

__

Ever fallen in love with someone

Ever fallen in love in love with someone

Ever fallen in love in love with someone you shouldn't have fallen in love with?

Falling in love with her had brought the worst pain in his life and unlife put together. Losing her was like losing a part of himself. Feeling that pain and seeing Dawn endure that pain meant he would never willingly take an innocent life again. He'd never adhere to the Slayer's credo not to take human life under any circumstances. Take away the chip and he'd kill anyone or anything that tried to harm any of his girls. He just couldn't regard the human population as "Happy meals on legs" any longer. 

__

Ever fallen in love with someone

Ever fallen in love in love with someone

Ever fallen in love in love with someone you shouldn't have fallen in love with?

Yeah, if he'd never fallen in love with her then things would have been simpler. It would certainly have been less painful. Yet, even if she never loved him back, if he never knew what it was like to be in love with someone who loved him in return, he couldn't regret the course his life had taken because of his feelings for her.

__

Fallen in love with

Ever fallen in love with someone you shouldn't have fallen in love with?

By the time he arrived in LA he had a plan. He was William the Bloody. When he wanted something he went out and he got it and if there were obstacles in his way, he'd get over them round them or blow them to Kingdom Come if he had to. One by one, he'd eliminate all the reasons she can't   
(not doesn't, not doesn't want to) love him. Starting with this contract.

* * * * *

Spike had done the LA scene, but that had been fifteen years ago. Aside from a brief sojourn during his abortive attempt to regain the Gem of Amara he hadn't been back since. He had two options. He tried to work out which of his old contacts either wouldn't object to or wouldn't know about his change in lifestyle and then hoped they were in the same place they were fifteen years ago. Or he contacted Angel in the hope that he could and would put him on the right trail quicker than he'd get there on his own. Besides, even if he could eventually find someone to sort out a passport and the relevant documents on his own. He didn't know anyone who could do anything about the chip and at the minute Spike suspected that the culprit or culprits behind his current problems were human. If he needed to confront them being defenceless was not an option.

And if they could get through the first meeting without one of them turning to dust then it could be useful to have someone in LA to gift-wrap him for the journey when the time came.

Had Spike been convinced that he was the only one in danger, he would have probably avoided Angel and taken his chances with his old contacts. However, until he could confirm that the terms of the contract had been satisfied, he had to assume that Dawn, Buffy and Tara were still in danger. Spike drove to a hotel he remembered with underground parking and checked in while he waited for dusk to make his call.

* * * * *

"Angel Investigations. We help the hopeless."

Spike was momentarily thrown by the southern tinge to the voice at the other end of the line.

"Hello, precious, you must be a new addition to the family. Don't tell me the cheerleader got herself a part in "General Hospital" and left Peaches to be all broody without her?"

"C-Cordelia's on holiday. Angel's doing some weapons training. D-did you want to speak to him?"

"Well, yeah, I did. Is it okay to interrupt him or should I leave a message?"

"If it's important I'm sure he won't mind or maybe you could speak to Wesley or Gunn?"

"Wesley's a watcher, right?" Spike had never actually been around when Wesley was in Sunnydale, but he had heard the name mentioned in conversations over the last year or so. 

"Uh-huh. Well he used to be." 

"In that case see if Angel's available will you, pet?" Maybe this ex-watcher could help him, or maybe he'd just as soon put a stake through his heart. 

"Who should I say wants him?"

"Tell him it's Spike. Tell the great Ponce it's important enough that I would still come and ask for his help even after how we parted company."

Spike could tell from the noise that the phone had been put down on a counter or desk whilst the girl went to speak to Angel. Spike fed a few more quarters into the phone-box whilst he waited. His foot tapped impatiently against the sidewalk. Hours seemed to pass before the receiver was lifted again.

"Spike." The tone was flat. Spike was willing to bet it was deliberately so. It was too much to expect that Angel would make things easy for him.

"Well, hi, there. I don't suppose Li'l Bit gave you a bell earlier did she?"

"Little Bit. Do you mean Dawn?"

"Yeah, Dawn, Niblet, Li'l Bit all one and the same. Much like Angel, Ponce, Poof, He whose hair sticks straight up."

"She rang."

"Yeah, well, what did she say?"

"She said that you were fool enough to get caught by Buffy's boyfriend and his commando friends; that they put an experimental microchip in your head; that the pain it causes you when you attempt to cause any physical harm to a human is so extreme as to make you basically impotent-."

"Hey!" 

"And that you split your time over the summer between babysitting her and patrolling with the Scoobies."

"Less of the impotent. Bit wouldn't have said it like that anyway."

"No, for some strange reason she seems to be the only sane person on this planet who actually likes you."

"Anyway, did the Niblet manage to convince you that you don't want to stake me on sight."

"Yeah, once I rang Xander and checked that it wasn't some script you were forcing her to read, she convinced me to wait until you opened your smart mouth."

"Why do I bother? Look; pick a bar or somewhere public and I'll meet you. There are some things we have to talk through. Be nice if you came on your own, but if you want you can bring the little Mick. I quite liked him. He's got a pair on him, but I don't want to see hide nor hair of any watchers. And hurry up and think of somewhere before all my change runs out."

"Why don't you come down to the office? Fred seemed to mention something about _you_ wanting a favour not the other way round."

"I'm not coming anywhere near a watcher, ex- or otherwise, that isn't Giles until we've got some stuff sorted out. And, yes, I need a favour, which is why you get to pick the location. Just pick somewhere. You can bloody well bill me for your precious time if you want but pick somewhere and fast. I'm on my last soddin' quarter."

Angel sighed and gave Spike directions to a small pseudo-Irish bar near the office, finishing just as the last of Spike's change ran out. Spike stayed in the phone-box where he was relatively inconspicuous until he saw Angel leave the building on his own. Then he walked round the corner to where he'd parked his car and drove to the rendezvous, arriving in time to have a bottle of Old Bushmills and two glasses waiting in a quiet corner booth before Angel came in.

"Okay, Spike, what's the deal? I never thought you would show up on my doorstep again, much less have the gall to ask for help, but then I never thought you'd go from killing slayers to doing their job for them either."

"Believe me if I was the only one affected I wouldn't be here now. What do you want, a shopping list or a story?"

"Both, but start with the story."

"Okay, but before I start, I know you're probably not going to believe this, but I wanted to apologise for that business over the ring the other year. What I did was wrong, and not only that you were right about that bastard nicking off with the ring at the finish." Spike suddenly looked stricken. He realised that he didn't actually know whether the child-molesting torturer vamp he had hired to force Angel to reveal the location of the ring was still in possession of said item. "You did get that back off the Mozart freak didn't you? I assume we'd have heard about him on the news otherwise."

"Yes, we did."

"Since you don't look like you've improved your tan, I'm assuming it's not available for loan or hire, not that you'd trust the likes of me with it anyway."

"No, I destroyed it."

Spike raised both eyebrows. "Your choice, I suppose. Personally speaking I'd have kept it and had myself some fun, but… back to the story I suppose. Did Dru ever tell you about how me and her had to skip town right quick when we left Prague…"

Spike told Angel about how he'd ended up signing the contract, and the events of yesterday and today. He stuck to the truth as far as he could but he couldn't bring himself to give Angel the real reason Buffy had been at his crypt. If Buffy didn't want to tell her friends, she certainly wasn't going to want Angel to know. Not the First Love. So he told Angel that he'd picked up a few scratches patrolling on his own and when Buffy came to ask about the Doctor she had taped them up for him, and then she'd stayed for a couple of beers. It seemed reasonably convincing to him.

"Anyway, so now I don't know if I'm supposed to have fulfilled my end of the contract. Rather suspiciously that lawyer came all the way out here from England, so it won't even be within office hours until one o'clock in the morning, so I can't even check with them for another…" he looked at his watch "… three hours."

"And if you haven't, what happens?"

Spike drained his glass before meeting Angel's gaze. "I lose the people I'm closest to. Bit, Tinkerbell, and the Slayer." Spike had deliberately put Buffy's name last on the list to try to put Angel off the scent regarding his feelings, but the elder vampire knew him too well.

"You're in love with her, aren't you?" He sounded more stunned than angry, but still his eyes glowed gold for a fraction of a second. Spike automatically went on the defensive. He'd always been quite fond of the line about the best defence is a good attack.

"Yeah, so, you left her. Damn near broke her in two, and then the rebound guy turned out to be a wanker that got her into bed and then never called her again and so she ends up playing it safe with captain cardboard. I've got more life and I'm fuckin' dead. And even he knows he'll never keep her, that she's too bloody scared to open up and get hurt the way you bloody hurt her again so he's off behind her back getting suck jobs off of some of the scabbiest lookin' undead whores you've ever seen because he wants to know how she felt when you and his High and Mighty Dracula got a piece." Spike got angrier as his rant went on. "But it all started with you leavin' her, so don't you act like you've got any right to take exception to how I feel about her. You gave up any rights you had when you moved to LA and left her behind." 

It was Angel's turn to drink heavily. He kept his eyes on the glass while he posed his next question. "So how does she feel about you?"

Spike sighed. "I don't know what she thinks… one day you're beneath her, a few months later you feel like you're her best friend, that she'll tell you stuff she wouldn't even talk to Red about, but then she's with her mates at the Bronze and she won't even give you a dance cause she doesn't want to be seen with yer. And she could never have any feelings for you because you're an evil demon who'll never have anything good or clean or pure in them. I can't be in love with her 'cos I don't have a soul. I only think I am because I'm in love with the pain. See, every so often, she'll give me a real good hidin'. But then you're the only person she trusts to look after Joyce and Dawn, and she seems to want you on patrol with her and I mean none of the others have gone out at all since… until she turns round in front of the fuckin' tin soldier of all people and calls you incompetent. He's the one who spent weeks lookin' for me when I escaped and then didn't even recognise me when he bumped into me with Red and the bricklayer, but she says I'm incompetent.

Basically the whole things about as screwed up as it can be. I can't be her friend any more than you could, but I'll never leave not unless Dawn does. That night I promised her I'd look after Dawn until the end of the earth. You know me. Once I say I'm going to do something I don't quit. Oh and thanks to you she's convinced that if she ever even so much as liked me then this chip would go haywire, I'd kill all her friends and she'd have to kill me or send me to hell or somesuch. Ta for that."

Spike ignored his glass, and polished off the remains of the bottle. Waving it at the barmaid when it was empty to show he wanted a refill.

Angel seized on the gap that Spike left in the conversation. "But none of that sounds like Buffy. It's all too mean."

"That's the thing. It's a long time since she was your Buffy. Sweet innocent sixteen year old Buffy, she'd never say any of it. Twenty year old Buffy, bit less trusting a lot less open. Twenty one year old, I died, I went to heaven, I thought I didn't have to be the one who has to save the world anymore and then my so called friends pulled me out Buffy. She's not so kind. She's hurting every second of every day, but she's just numb inside all at the same time. She'll lash out at whoever's around. I just reckon I can take more punishment than most of them."

Spike opened the second bottle, and refilled both their glasses to the top.

"Anyway, to get back to the subject in hand. How much do you trust your watcher? Is he still in touch with the council? Does he have any family working for them? How d'you think he'd feel about working for William the Bloody?"

"As far as I know the Council basically left him stranded over here when Faith went rogue and Buffy resigned. His father probably either still works for them or if he's retired he's probably still in touch with them, but then I don't think there's any love lost there either. As to working for you, I'm not sure any of us would want to, but to help Buffy out…"

"Right, well, in that case, we need to find out if Giles jnr., knows who the Council's lawyers are. If that doesn't tie in see if he knows who Quentin Travers uses. If his dad's got some clout with the Council it wouldn't hurt to see who he uses. Failing that we're going to have to wait till I can get over there and break into their offices. The whole English thing could be a red herring of course, or there's a slight possibility it could be a guy called Ethan Rayne, but I think he'd go more for Giles, but it's possible that he's decided that losing her again would be worse for Giles than any direct attack. There's even an outside chance it could be Dru, if Darla or someone set it up for her.

I've sent a message to Giles about all this, but if it is the Council and they've got me or Buffy or both under surveillance then I'll lay odds his phone is tapped and they may be interfering with his mail, so I arranged for him to pick up the parcel from the FedEx depot.

Right so what else for the watcher. I want to see if he can work out from the description what those eggs are. I want to know whether all that stuff Buff's ex was spouting about freezing the eggs was a pile of crap, or whether the lawyer was talking shit, and I'd like to know that before I ring them up to see about my end of the contract if possible, since I suspect it was the lawyer that was lying through his teeth and that's got to give me some leverage.

I need him to find out what he can about that type of contract, how they work. If they've decided I've broken faith, then will there be some sort of magical retribution imminent. If it works like that, what sort of magic, how does it work, is there any way to protect against it?

Other than that it might be an idea if someone who the Slayer will actually listen to tells her that I'm not the Doctor, so if he's not entirely fictional he's still on the loose.

I need a passport and I need paperwork for repatriating a cadaver, in this case me, and a nice comfy coffin. I'm fairly certain that Giles'll let me out at the other end.

"Surely if you're going freight you won't need the passport, and why not just any old packing crate without all the paperwork."

"You really don't keep up with the times do you? Since last September, anything going in an aircraft hold gets x-rayed. What do you think they're going to do when a skeleton shows up on their x-ray machine? Only thing is I've never had to do this before, so I've got no idea what paperwork is involved. As to the passport, I don't know whether I can trace this through from the English end. I may want to head out to Prague and start working from the other end, but once I get to Europe I should be okay if I get a car blacked out, I can use the ferries and drive.

The real biggie though is I want to find someone who can either take this chip out or deactivate it." 

There was a significant pause in the conversation before Angel replied.

"Spike, I can't help but think that that wouldn't be a great idea. You seem to have got yourself some sort of life together. Why not quit while you're ahead?"

"Because I've only really got half a life. It's like no one really totally trusts me. I can see everything that I want, but I can't actually grasp any of it. I'm not saying that getting the chip out is gonna fix everything, but its part of it. Normally I wouldn't force the issue, but since I'm already out of town I may as well deal with as much as I can now rather than make a separate trip later. More importantly, apart from Dru everyone on that list of suspects is human. If I'm going to get to the bottom of this I have to be able to defend myself."

"Okay, that's understandable, but what if you end up back where you were two years ago?"

"Well, see, that's the incentive for you to help me, isn't it?

One way or another I'm going to find a way to get it done. If you help me then you can be waiting when I come out of the anaesthetic. If I've reverted to my former self, you'll be doing me a favour if you stake me. If that's the way it goes then someone's going to have to stop me and I'd rather it was you than the Slayer. If I need taking out, I want it done well away from Sunny D.

If I get it done somewhere else then you might never know whether I came out of it okay or not until it's too late. I've come so close to just trying to put enough electricity through my head to fry it more than once. The only thing that's stopped me is the thought it might get stuck in the "on" position."

"Spike, you're just not taking this seriously enough. Surely what you've got is worth keeping. How are you going to keep your word about looking after Dawn if you're psychotic or a heap of dust?"

"Honestly! Me being the one who lives inside my head, I think I'm qualified to say that it's not some sodding chunk of metal that's in charge of my actions. I doubt it's going to make a blind bit of difference. I admit that if I'd never had it, I probably wouldn't have got to where I am now, but being able to hit humans isn't going to affect how I feel about, Buffy or Dawn or even the others. I need them to trust me. That's what keeps me going with this white hat crap, not some computer gizmo. Besides I've been reading up on my Pavlovian theory since I got this. Even if they take this out, I'll probably still be conditioned against harming humans to a certain extent."

"Do you want to take that risk? Ever since you heard there was such a thing as a slayer you've been obsessed with killing them. Your entire reputation as a master vampire was founded on being the Slayer of Slayers. How can you take a chance when the first person you'd probably pursue could be the person you claim you're in love with?"

"Because, my dear Angel, _I'm_… _not_… _you_. 

If I wanted to kill Buffy, the chip isn't stopping me as it is. Something to do with her resurrection means that the chip doesn't recognise her as human anymore. Buffy and me have both known about it for a couple of months. For the sake of my lily-white hide we haven't told the others but there's probably been more than a dozen times since I found out that I could have taken her out if I wanted to. 

I think we can assume that Buffy's safe, unless I give her reason to come after me, which, by the way, I have no intention of doing."

"Okay… I know a guy who can read auras or emotions or something like that. If he agrees that having the chip removed isn't likely to make you revert to what you were like before, then I'll put some feelers out."

"So, do you think your watcher'll have gone home for the night, or have we got a chance of checking up on those eggs before I ring the lawyers?"

"I don't know if Wes'll still be there, but even if he isn't we can try checking out this Internet site Cordy uses. There's a chance we might come up with something that way, and if we have to resort to the books it would probably take longer than we have to find anything. Assuming you want to ring them just after nine their time. Having said that the quickest way might be to ring Buffy and see if she knows."

Spike smacked his palm against his forehead in frustration. "Great! Why didn't I think of that? And why do I feel like I'd almost rather spend a week looking through books than have one five minute phone call with her right now?"

"Because you've been up for two days straight and trying to do five things at once, and because the last time you saw her she was helping the Boy Scout destroy your home?"

Since he hadn't told Angel that he and Buffy were together, there was no point mentioning she'd paid him a visit this morning to break things off.

"Come on. I'll give you a lift back to that hotel you're using as an office, and I can use the phone I've got in the car."

It crossed Angel's mind to ask if he had a phone in his car, why had he been going on about using his last quarter earlier, but since this was Spike he decided to leave the question unasked.

The first thing Spike did when he got into the car was to try Buffy's number. He was more than a little pleased to hear Dawn's voice at the other end of the line.

"Hello."

"Hi, pet. Just a friendly call from your favourite vamp, who happens to be trying to pump you for information."

"Okay, friendly vamp, what do you want to know."

"GI Joe and Buffy were looking for some demon eggs last night, you didn't happen to pick up what type of demon, did you?"

"Ehm, they did mention it. I think it began with an S. Willow's here I could try asking her, see if she remembers or I could leave a message for Buffy to ring you when she gets back."

"Try Red, see if she can remember." Spike could tell from the volume of the question over the phone that Dawn had just bawled up the stairs, rather than going to Willow's room. He was likewise aware of Willow's answer.

"I heard, Bit. I don't suppose she has any idea how you spell that? No, didn't think so and in case you're wondering I've made it as far as LA and I'll send you a message tomorrow, if I don't have to ring up with some stupid question I should probably already know the answer to. Night, love!"

Spike switched off the phone, and set the car in motion. "Apparently, if Willow's memory is to be trusted Riley said the eggs were from a demon that sounds like 'Soo-vol-tai'. Can't say as I've heard of them." He looked across at Angel to see whether he recognised the name.

Angel just shrugged. "We'll see what we can dig up back at the hotel."

As soon as they got back to the hotel Angel excused himself and disappeared upstairs. While he waited for him to return, Spike booted up the computer in Wesley's office. Computers weren't really his thing, but he knew enough to do what he wanted. The lower part of the building seemed to be deserted apart from him. He accessed the Internet program and checked the bookmarked sites. When he came across one marked, "Demons, demons, demons!" he figured he'd found what he was looking for. He quickly accessed the alphabetical listings and found an entry that matched the information he already had. 

He was busy reading through the information on the screen when Angel returned carrying a baby and followed by a large green demon with red horns and eyes.

"Jesus, Angel, I thought I was going soft, but at least I'm not running a bleedin' nursery. Unless of course it isn't as human as it looks and you thought I needed a snack?" 

"I'd cut the jokes about eating my son, that is if you still want my help."

Spike chuckled, "you know, I didn't think even you would be naive enough to believe some bint who tells you that you're so wonderful that your cold dead wrigglies are capable of giving life. It's a matter of common record that vampires can't father children, yet you would believe that you're the exception."

It took some time before Connor's parentage and humanity were established to Spike's satisfaction.

"So let me get this right. This kid is my great-uncle, my uncle and my nephew, depending how you look at it. And Darla actually came good in the end, but now she's dead again."

"Yeah, that covers it."

"The master would turn in his grave if he knew how our side of his little family turned out. Does Buffy know?"

Angel managed to look shame-faced. "Not yet. I kind of wanted to tell her in person, but it's all been kind of hectic, and I haven't had a chance to get up to Sunnydale yet."

"Well, judging by the size of that kid, if you haven't found time to get up there yet, I would just make the phone call. Now that I know, she'll hate me if I tell her and if she finds out that I knew and didn't tell her than she'll still hate me. Just ring her, or you could write her a letter and I'll take it back with me, if you want." 

"Yeah, that might actually be a reasonable idea."

"Anyway, how about you introduce your big green friend. Poor bugger's been left hanging around for ages while we discuss our family tree."

"Right, Spike this is Lorne. Lorne meet Spike, also known as William the Bloody. He's the guy I mentioned earlier, the one who can read auras."

"Oh. Right. Read away then big guy." Spike figured he might as well get this over and done with as quickly as possible.

"I'm afraid, William, that it's not quite that straight forward. Normally, someone needs to sing before I can pick up on how they feel. It's only if someone is broadcasting some sort of over-powering emotion that I can pick up on it without the music. Now, you are broadcasting, but you're experiencing so many conflicting emotions, that I can't really pick out what's happening. If you sing I should be able to make some sort of sense out of it."

"You want me to sing? That's how half my problems started in the first place." Spike sighed and looked at his feet for a couple of seconds. "Does he have to hear?" He nodded in the direction of Angel. 

"Hey, I wouldn't worry about being embarrassed singing in front of the big lug over there. He's murdered some of Mr Manilow's finest himself before now."

Spike smirked, "Barry Manilow? Well I suppose nothing could be as bad as that. Wait, I get to choose what I sing, don't I? But it's more the reading I'd rather was private. I mean I know he needs to know whether you think I'm going to go all Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, but I don't think he needs to know all my private thoughts."

"Yes, you can pick whatever you want, and I'm sure if you'd rather do this in private Angel won't mind."

Taking this as his cue, Angel decided that it seemed like an opportune moment to fix Connor some formula. After making his excuses, he departed for the kitchen.

"So, how much do I have to sing?"

"Normally, I'd say just a couple of verses, but with your present state, it may take a bit more."

"Okay, then." Spike paused whilst he tried to figure out a suitable piece to sing without any backing. None of his usual punk repertoire seemed appropriate, but after a few seconds a piece came to mind. He'd bought the CD after her performance at the Bronze. It wasn't so much for the music, though it was okay, mostly he'd bought it as a reminder of the second night they kissed, he didn't count the day they were engaged. The only other song that was coming to mind was "Wind Beneath My Wings" and no way was he turning into that big a poofter.

(2)"All the things I believed in

Just want to get it over with

Tears form behind my eyes but I do not cry

Countin' the days that pass me by…"

Spike sang for a few minutes before he was unable to remember any more of the words. Whilst he was singing he'd avoided Lorne's gaze. He knew that it wouldn't stop Lorne from being able to read him, but at least he wouldn't have to watch the pity in the demon's eyes. 

He looked over at Lorne. "Was that enough then?" 

Lorne nodded. "I got as much as I needed. You are in one hell of a mess, aren't you?" 

"You could say that." Spikes gaze travelled once more to the scuffed toes of his boots, embarrassed that someone else should know so much about his innermost feelings. He listened passively to the rest of what Lorne had to say.

"You're just full of love. You're totally devoted to the pair of them. That isn't so much a problem with the little one. She returns your feelings, so if you can make time for each other, then you should be able to sort that all out.

The slayer is a different matter. The love you feel for her is so bound up with the pain it causes you. It's going to be a hard task to try to separate the two. Most men would already have given up. They'd have let her drive them off. You though, you'll hang in there as long as there's the slightest bit of hope. 

I get the impression you've already chosen the path you need to take. It won't be easy, and she may never return your feelings, but you have to take the high ground and stick to it. Giving in to her will only lead to a repetition of all the mistakes you've already made. You're right about not seeing her. If you keep trying to see her, she'll either end up pushing you away or leaning on you again without making any commitment and either way it's too painful a situation for you to maintain in the long term. It'll hurt to stay away from her but you have to give her time to figure out how she feels. 

As to the rest, there's a lot of anger and resentment built up inside you over the last few months, but now that you're out of the situation that you were in, that should gradually dissipate. Be aware though, you can't keep bottling it up if she hurts you. You want a relationship with her. It won't work if you're making all the compromises. Your feelings have to be considered just as much as hers. If you're mad at her for taking advantage of you then let her know, just don't get physical and stick to telling her what's made you mad. Don't start name-calling.

You've also got a lot of anger towards the people responsible for the situation that you're in now, and you include yourself in that. There's no point beating yourself up over something that you did when you were a totally different person. You have to just deal with the consequences and put it behind you. Now, if anything were to make me tell Angel that chip needs left in, it would be the anger you feel toward those you perceive as harming the people you've chosen to protect. You would feel no remorse on your own account about killing anyone either to defend your people or to avenge them. However, it seems to have become almost second nature to you to try to avoid doing anything that your Slayer wouldn't approve of. It's almost like your idea of her has become your conscience. Trying to live up to her standards has brought you this far. I think it'll take you the rest of the way. 

I know that you almost fell off the wagon a while back, and it was the chip that stopped you, but you know yourself that you weren't actually comfortable with what you were doing. Even to get as far as you got you had to talk yourself into it. It's very doubtful but still possible that you could have gone through with it. If you had gone through with it you know you would have regretted it later. The whole thing was a backlash to what she said, and you should have realised by now that what she said was probably more to do with saying whatever it took to push you away rather than anything else. If she really believed you were evil don't you think you'd be dead rather than undead?

If you get the chip out you're going to have to be a lot less impetuous. You're going to have to think things through rather than just react. You know that as soon as you slip and feed on someone you've lost any chance you have with her. You would never get to see her little sister again and if you lost them and their friends do you think you could be happy with the sort of life you used to have or do you think that for every person you might kill, you would be imagining, mothers, brothers, sisters and husbands all grieving like you did for her? 

In all honesty though, there are plenty of humans who would be every bit as vengeful if their families were threatened and as to the feeding you have to think before you react. Try to go somewhere alone after an argument and calm down for a few hours rather than reacting without thinking things through. I'd also advise you before you do try to pick up the relationship again, that you sit down and explain to her how it's easier to act like a man when people treat you like one, and how difficult it is not to live down to people's expectations if they treat you like… Well, you know what she's been treating you like."

Spike's eyes travelled up from his boots to Lorne's face once more. Had he just given his approval?

"You're very afraid for your girls right now and guilty about getting them into this. The fear isn't necessarily a bad thing. It'll push you to do what has to be done. The guilt achieves nothing and you have to try not to dwell on it.

I don't have any special advice for you. It seems to me you pretty much worked out what you had to do before you got this far. Just keep working on it, and try not to give up hope."

"And the chip?"

"I think you need to take some time to think through the issues. You have to think about whether you could still hold it together if the people you care about were to reject you. You know that's a possible outcome if things go badly wrong between you and Buffy. You have to work out whether _you_'re happier with the person you've become or whether they are the only reason you want to change. If you come to realise that you want the change for yourself I think you'll find it easier to avoid temptation. 'Living' your 'life' to please other people doesn't tend to work out very well, but if being what you think she would want you to be, makes you happier too, that's fine. You just have to be sure to remember that, if things go wrong between you and her. That way you're less likely to do something on the spur of the moment that you'll regret in the long run. 

Once you get all that stuff clear in your head there's no reason not to get rid of it as far as I can see. Just try to remember your lady won't be too happy if you kill her ex, even if he did blow up your record collection."

"Thanks… I mean, I knew… but it helps to hear someone else say it."

"Sure thing, sweet cheeks. I'll go let Angel know it's safe to come out of the kitchen."

Spike went back to looking at the information on the computer screen.

He didn't know whether what he read there made him feel better or worse. He was going to have to come clean with Angel, too. Someone had tried to kill him, and (unless they really had quit the surveillance that night before they returned to his crypt) they hadn't been too concerned about the possibility of killing Buffy at the same time. He hoped that meant the contract was primarily a tool to set him up. It might mean whoever was pulling the strings in this little puppet theatre had no interest in invoking the penalty clause. Actually, it meant the contract was invalid. 

The description on the screen compared a brood of suvolte hatchlings to a school of land-based piranha, capable of eating a human in less than a minute once the smell of blood drew them to a target, the main difference being piranhas don't eat the bones as well. If those things had hatched when he and Buffy had been asleep and unarmed, neither of them would have got away to tell the tale. As far as he was concerned that constituted a greater than twenty five percent risk of permanent injury.

Spike eliminated Dru from his list of suspects. She might have made it look like he was trading in demons so Buffy would find out and disown him, but if she wanted him dead, it would be at her hand. He also pretty much ruled out Ethan Rayne, he had no motive to eliminate Spike, in fact Spike didn't know of any reason Ethan would have heard of him. Buffy would perhaps visit his crypt on average two nights a week and an occasional daytime visit while Dawn was at school, normally only staying a couple of hours, before she ran off. So if someone had hoped to catch Buffy with the hatchlings attack, they must have known their chances would be fairly slim. If he died it would be impossible to invoke the penalty clause. So he had to be the primary target. 

He printed off a hard copy of the information from the web-site, and went to find Angel. 

* * * * *

"I don't think we have to worry about the default clause." Spike passed the relevant piece of the print out to Angel. "Sitting in a room unarmed and caught off guard when those things hatched seems to be over the acceptable level of risk to me. I'll ring the lawyers first thing, and make sure they're aware of the fact."

"So it looks like it was you they're after?"

"It would seem so, but there's something else I have to tell you. I lied before." Spike spoke softly as if a gentle tone could somehow lessen the effect of his words. "Buffy didn't just pop by that night. If GI Joe hadn't come busting in when he did, and the web-site was right about approximate hatching times, then the chances are that we would have both been asleep or otherwise pre-occupied when the demons hatched." Spike made no move to defend himself against the first blow. He reckoned he'd let Angel have one good punch for free. He couldn't give any logical justification for it, but emotionally he felt almost as if it were his due. Maybe it was because he thought the first blow would be a reflex reaction.

His assessment seemed to be about right. The punch had come out of nowhere, faster and harder than humanly possible, but almost as soon as it landed, Angel looked contrite.

"Sorry, you were right. I don't have the right to get upset about what she does any more."

When it became apparent that there would be no second blow, Spike tested the range of movement of his jaw. The thought crossed his mind that at least it wasn't the nose for once and then he continued. "The surveillance photo that the lawyer showed me was taken on a night she spent a couple of hours at my place. I think they knew there was a chance she would be there, and not in a position to defend herself."

Spike met Angel's eyes before he continued. 

"I lied to you before, because I knew she wouldn't want you to know. She's doesn't want anyone to know. The first time we spent the night together, she told me the next morning that she'd stake me if I ever told anyone. If she didn't want anyone in Sunnydale to know, you would be the last person she'd want to find out. You, or the farm boy, but it's a bit too late for him." Spike couldn't help but smile at the memory of Riley's face when he burst into the crypt. 

"Anyway, the reason I'm telling you now, is so that if something happens to me before it's all sorted out you at least know as much as I do about what's happening. It's not like I've got bragging rights or anything. I'm more ashamed that I'm… I was seeing someone who's ashamed of me. 

I need to be sure that there will be someone looking out for her if I'm not able to. It seems like I was the target this time, but until we know who's responsible and what their motives are it's difficult to be sure that her and Dawn are safe. As things stand, she broke off… whatever we had… this morning, so if I am the target she should be safe enough for now. I doubt she'll be coming visiting, and I'll make sure that if we meet it's only in public places. 

Basically, if you're in touch with her, I'd appreciate if you pretend you don't know anything. Back home everybody thinks I've got some doomed obsession, so no one will be surprised that you know how I feel, but don't let on that you know it's not been totally one-sided.

No, that didn't come out right… Look, what I said before about her not opening up with Riley, well she never opened up with me either. She doesn't feel anything for me or she won't let herself feel anything for me…" Spike gave up trying to explain a situation that was too complicated to explain and that he wasn't entirely sure he understood anyway.

Anyway, I'm going to go now. If you need me or if you turn up any information this is my phone number. By the time I get back to my room and get something to eat it'll be time to phone England and then I can get some sleep."

"Spike, what you said before about the squaddie, does that mean he actually caught you…" Angel raised an eyebrow at Spike, "… when he bust in?"

"Not quite, that was Harris, but I don't think his brain will let him make the association with naked push-ups and invisible slayers. When Mission Impossible bust in we were asleep, but considering we were both naked I think he got the picture."

Angel gave a lopsided smile that was about the closest he could manage to a smirk. "Can't say that I find that thought too distressing."

An answering smile came to Spike's face. 'So I wasn't the only one that didn't like the boy,' thought Spike. "I'll probably see you tomorrow some time." He made his way to the door, raised the hand holding his cigarette in a gesture of goodbye and left without looking back. 

Angel hadn't offered to let Spike stay at the hotel, and Spike would have refused if he had. He wouldn't have wanted to endanger Connor any further.

* * * * *

Spike's call to the lawyer's office was terse but effective. As he expected when confronted with information that proved their representative had been lying, they claimed merely to have been misinformed, but to have acted in good faith. They agreed that the contract was now void, but when Spike requested the contract be handed over to himself or his own legal representatives to prevent it being put to further use, they became far less co-operative. Nevertheless, when Spike mentioned the name of the prestigious London firm who would represent him they agreed to hand over the document. He requested that it be sent by courier to the hotel where he was staying, and then he arranged with the desk clerk for them to sign for it so he could pick it up at his convenience.

* * * * *

Spike slept fitfully throughout following day. His sleep was filled with dreams of Buffy in which she alternately beseeched him to tell her that he loved her and pummelled his face in an alley telling him she'd never be his girl. He felt far from refreshed when he gave up trying to sleep. It was too soon for him to be moving around in the open and even Passions failed to hold his attention. Pretty soon his restlessness had him reviewing options. Giles should have the parcel he sent by now, but it was unlikely that he'd have the phone charged up. Angel might or might not be up and about, but he'd rather wait till Angel phoned him. They had parted on more amicable terms last night than Spike had thought possible, and he didn't want to antagonise him with incessant phone calls.

He tried reading. He tried soaking in a hot bath, which was a rare luxury for him considering his normal abode. Basically he found he was unable to relax whilst there was so much to be done, but he was unable to actually do anything from the confines of his hotel room. In the end, he couldn't wait for dusk to head to the Hyperion. This had the net effect that he ended up fidgeting and chain-smoking in his car instead of his hotel room. When he finally could make his way from the car to the hotel he found the reception deserted.

He wandered briefly around the ground floor without seeing anyone. 

"Hello! Shop!" he called relatively quietly as he made his way up the staircase to the next level, his vampiric senses alert for anything that would indicate the presence of anyone other than himself. He was fairly certain the kid would be here somewhere, which was why he hadn't been more vocal about his request for attention. Someone had to be baby-sitting. He became aware of movement behind one of the doors. He called again, more softly this time, but still loud enough to be heard by anyone inside the room.

"Hello?"

The door opened to reveal Lorne. "Hi there, William. There isn't anyone else here, well, except for Connor that is. The rest of them are all either out trying to hunt up what you wanted, or they've gone home for the night."

"So you landed the baby-sitting gig again. Doesn't anyone else take a turn? Have you heard whether they've had any luck with anything?"

"I think they're still following up on various leads, rather than having found anything."

"I don't suppose there would be anything I could do to help? I've been practically climbing the walls all day."

"I think Angel was concerned that you might not be particularly diplomatic if you got involved. He seemed to think patience wasn't your strong suit."

"Got a point, but surely there must be something I can do?"

"Well, you can keep an eye on your nephew there while I go fix his tea," and that was how Spike ended up helping look after a baby, whilst everyone else chased up the things he wanted. To a large extent that day set the pattern for the most of the week, by the Thursday night, however the ball was rolling on all the stuff he'd wanted to sort out whilst he was there.

Angel had the coffin stored in the back of the hotel and had made preliminary arrangements for the hire of a hearse to take it to the airport, although no date had yet been set for the flight. Someone had been found who could get a passport and the necessary documents (both ways), but it was going to be at least another week before they would be ready, since a British passport would have to be acquired to work from. They could have used an American passport, if Spike would have agreed, if he claimed to have married an American and taken American citizenship for example. Unfortunately this would have made him more noticeable when travelling around Europe. As it was when someone suggested the idea to him, he muttered something under his breath along the lines of he might live with a bunch of bloody colonials but it didn't mean he wanted to be one.

He had a preliminary appointment set up to see a recently turned vampire who was also a trained neurologist. The only snag being that they'd had to arrange for him to make the trip from New York. The appointment wasn't for another week and a half and if the doctor gave the go ahead for the chip's removal he would have to be put up and fed while he was in LA and all the necessary surgical equipment would have to be bought or hired. 

Neither Wesley nor Giles had been able to ascertain if there was a link between the English law firm and the Council. They weren't the firm the Council used for everyday work, but that did not in itself prove anything one way or the other. Giles had managed to put together some of the other background information Spike had requested, but was unwilling to pass it on to him before they spoke face to face. Since Spike didn't expect to be able to act on it until he got to England, this didn't bother him too much.

Before he left, the hotel that evening, Spike passed an envelope to Angel.

"I wasn't sure if you had kept your old accounts open, so I started a new one using your old alias. There should be enough there to cover all your expenses and your time. If there's anything left over just call it my contribution to Bite-size's college fund. I could have waited till you drew up a bill, but…life's too short."

Spike refused to mention the possibilities of not coming out of the operation, or not coming out the same or falling victim to another attempt on his life.

"See you in a week and a half, God willing."

* * * * *

Spike headed for the Strip. He had one night to party before he went home. At first he moved from bar to bar never having more than two drinks in any one place, studiously avoiding anywhere that had signs saying "Karaoke".

It was the music that drew him towards the small side street club. 

(3) _Why is the bedroom so cold? You've turned away on your side_

Is my timing that flawed – have our feelings run dry? 

The melancholy strains were soothingly familiar, but the thought that his own 12" copy was now part of the debris scattered around what had been his home tended to negate the song's normally tranquil effect. The sign outside said that the club was hosting a Goth, Industrial and Eighties night. 

__

Yet there's still this appeal that we've kept through our lives

Love, love will tear us apart again -

Spike hesitated, but then went in.

It was the first time since he'd broken up with Dru that he'd been to one of these things. Some of the music was okay but an entire evening of angst wasn't something he'd care to go through normally. Tonight it seemed like an appropriate soundtrack to his evening of drinking.

__

You cry out in your sleep – all my failings expose

There's a taste in my mouth, as desperation takes hold

Just that something so good just can't function no more

When love, love will tear us apart again - 

Without making any effort he found he blended into the crowd inside. When he'd last been to a Goth night almost everyone even the men had had long black hair, but this crowd sported tresses in many varying shades and styles. One girl wore her long predominately black hair in two high back-combed bunches, but the fringe and front side sections were dyed a magenta pink. Her boyfriend had his short spiky cut dyed black, but tipped with ultramarine blue. Another couple had full head colours, one poppy red, the other a deep violet. Black still dominated the room, both regarding hair colour and clothing, but now colourful flashes relieved the darkness. Fluorescent and metallic colours adorned all but the most conservative of outfits, and many of the brighter outfits glowed brilliantly under the club's UV lights. 

Most of the men wore little if any make-up though a decade earlier he knew that male and female alike would both have worn heavy pale foundation, black eyeliner and most probably black lipstick. 

Skin-tight T-shirts in rubber and mesh fabrics had largely replaced men's frilly shirts and frock coats. Many of the women still wore corsets cut to Victorian patterns but these were made from PVC, not satin, velvet or brocade and heavy skirts with crinolines or bustles seemed to have disappeared altogether.

So much was the same. So much was different.

He took a seat by the bar and ordered a beer. When the next track(4) started with a thunderous organ solo, he figured he was back on familiar territory. Then he realised that the dance-floor was filled with the "new-style" Goths and when the intro finished the music wasn't the mix of guitar and keyboards he expected, but completely electronic and far poppier than he expected. He was at a Goth night, but if he hadn't known better he might have thought it was a rave. Then he recognised the sample used in the song's chorus as Carmina Burana by Orff.

He decided that maybe it was time to re-assess the Goth scene. He settled back to enjoy a few beers while he watched and listened, taking in this new phenomenon. He'd found that the DJ was mixing in old familiar Goth tracks with these newer dancier tracks and eighties electronic music. 

He'd been sitting at the bar for some time when he realised that the girl on the next stool over was matching him almost drink for drink. Since she didn't have his metabolism, she was starting to look a little the worse for wear. Once, it would have been a cue for him to move in on his prey, separating the straggler from the herd. Now he found himself going through the same initial motions for a very different reason.

"Are you alright, pet? You seem to be knockin' those bottles back a bit sharpish."

She looked over at him and he could tell that her make-up had been recently reapplied to repair the damage done by the tears that had left her eyes red and swollen.

"Not really."

"Want to talk about it?"

She nodded towards a couple dancing at the edge of the dance floor. "My ex. Except it's not even a week since we… since he dumped me. It's the first time I've been out and I have to meet him. He never wanted to come here when we were dating. I thought it'd be safe."

He gave the girl, her ex, and his latest conquest an assessing look. He suspected that when the girl at the bar was a bit less drunk, and hadn't been crying that she might be moderately pretty in a skinny sort of way. The other girl wore a corset that made her appear to have a full high bust and narrow waist, but he knew that without the corset her bust-line might drop anything between two and six inches and depending how tightly the corset was laced, it might be taking six inches off her waist. She was definitely the better looking of the two at the minute, but on a normal day in normal clothes he thought the girl at the bar might have the edge, just.

He knew he had the guy beat though. He was handsome enough in a boy-next-door way, but he had no edge. Spike had edge enough for the whole room.

"Wanna make him jealous?" Spike arched an eyebrow at her. 

She visibly moved away from him. "No, I'm not really looking to get into anything right now."

Spike abandoned his trademark leer. "I'm not either. I'm pretty much in the same boat pet." He pulled out his wallet and showed her a picture of the three Summers women. "That's Buffy. She ditched me last week. That is if you can say you've been ditched when she wouldn't even tell her mates we were together in the first place. I came up here the same day she broke the news, so I can't say for sure that I've been replaced yet, but since she's got a bridesmaid gig this Saturday, I'd guess by the end of the reception I will have been. 

I guess I just thought…"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to imply you were some sort of perv…"

"Well, you wouldn't be wrong if you did. How about we make this strictly business though? Say a few kisses, hands allowed but only above the clothes and apart from the bum not on any of the interesting bits. I'll help you put on a show for him tonight. 

Tomorrow night, I'll pick you up after work. If you want to bring a girl friend with you, you can. I'll drive you down the coast to Sunnydale and put you up in a hotel by the beach. You come with me to the wedding. We put on a similar show for Buffy and her friends, and then you can spend whatever time is left at the beach with your mate, and I'll drive you both back to LA whenever you want on Sunday. If nothing else you get a weekend away…and the best part is I don't live in LA, so he isn't going to see me with anyone else. If you have to go somewhere alone and he turns out to be there, hey, I had to work that weekend. You can make it last as long or as short a time as you like if your friends'll cover for you, and at the end you get to ditch me."

The girl smiled at him. "I probably shouldn't, but okay." She pulled him toward the dance-floor.

****

End of Chapter 6

Music nicked or just described in detail for this chapter were:

(1)Ever fallen in love by The Buzzcocks 

(2)Goodbye to you by Michelle Branch 

(3)Love will tear us apart by Joy Division 

(4)Love never dies by Apoptygma Berzerk 

Please, please review.


	7. Chapter 7

**

In the Name of Love 
**

By Tales of Spike

Disclaimer: 

__

Spike: So you're saying that I'm a figment of some bloke's imagination.

__

Buffy: Yeah. This guy called Joss made up all the people we know. And then he set up a production company called Mutant Enemy and they made a TV series and they sold it to Fox and UPN and everybody else.

__

Spike: So now I'm not only made up, but there's some actor type going around pretending to be me. As if they could find some human who could do me justice!

__

Buffy: It gets better. In one episode, he makes it so that I think that I made up everybody that he really made up.

__

Spike: Bloody Hell! Is this guy on any prescription medication? Seriously – Everybody round here is miserable. Maybe if we club together we can get him some Prozac… or maybe we should get him laid…What about that Faith bint? I mean he'd have to let her out of that jail… but once he tries a slayer…

__

Buffy: You're a pig!

__

Spike: Hey I know what it is. He's jealous of my undeniable charm, bad boy attitude and my compactly muscular body. That's why he made me be in love with such a bitch…

__

Buffy: Hey! That's not fair. I can't help it. It's how he made me… 

****

Disclaimer#2: I Walk the Line is by Alien Sex Fiend

****

Dedication: For Charmin, Sarr Chasm, akeleven, Darlene D, bubonicplague1348 and Queen Akasha. I just love repeat reviewers. Love them, love them, love them!!! ß The people who kept me going through writing the original version that ff deleted. (And for NeverMindDaria and faerie babee without whom I'd have given up on reposting this.)

"Hell's Bells" written by Rebecca Rand Kirshner 

Chapter 7 

She had hoped that breaking up with him would give her a sense of closure, that the dreams would stop, but still they went on.

They started with the tiger. The stunningly beautiful, incredibly rare white tiger with piercing blue eyes.

She saw him as he drank by the edge of a moonlit pool, his tongue lapping at the midnight dark liquid, yet when he looked up, suddenly aware of her presence, not water but blood dripped from his lips, fangs and gums.

He watched her as his long tongue snaked from his mouth to rasp away the telltale blood stains; he knew that she could no more run from his predatory gaze than a rabbit caught in the headlights of an oncoming juggernaut could avoid its fate.

Slowly he began to pad towards her, the pool fading into the dark shadows of her dream landscape. With a grace, power and strength unmatched in the human world, taut muscles rippled under creamy pale fur. His winter blue gaze focused on her face and she was helpless and pinned in place as long as their eyes met. The pounding rhythm of those powerful muscles gradually quickened, from a walk to a trot and finally, to a steady loping run. Then, just when she thought the suspense unbearable he leapt, bearing her over backwards, with one forceful paw on each shoulder and as she hit the ground the beast's fangs pierced the skin of her exposed neck. Her hair, always long in these dreams, as he had liked it, before a fit of spite had made her hack it off, was loosely pinned back and up for the sole purpose of granting him easy access.

As he drank the body above her would change form and in an instant she found herself pinned beneath his jean-clad form resting on a concrete floor, her arms extended above her head and manacled to a metal loop set into the floor.

Now that her eyes were no longer locked with his, she was free to struggle and she writhed beneath him as he drew precious blood from her veins. Just as the blood loss left her overcome by a giddy euphoria, she became aware of a shift in his weight and he sat back on his heels face morphing from demon to human visage as he did so.

Reaching behind her head he removed the grips which held her hair in place, spreading it in shimmering waves on the floor around her. His hands gripped the neckline of her blouse and effortlessly tore it from top to bottom, the remaining pieces dissolving as his hands pulled apart, leaving her upper half bare except for a thin scrap of white lace. Slowly, tauntingly, he drew the talon on his left index finger across the delicate material, severing the narrow strip where left and right hemispheres met. She felt a sharp pain as the nail drew blood from a shallow cut. He dipped his platinum head and extended his tongue, licking the precious plasma from her ribs. She strained against the manacles, wishing desperately to run her fingers through his hair until it flopped into curls; free of the gel that constrained its movement.

He watched her struggles and the reactions that played across her face. He moved first one knee and then the other, so that instead of pinning her hips between his legs, he knelt between her parted thighs.

He drew a line with the tip of his tongue from the centre of her chest to the already puckered aureole of her left breast, circling several times before finally sucking her nipple into his mouth. Her hips flexed upward in an uncontrolled spasm. Even in her weakened state her response to his touch was still fevered.

Finally he tore the last remnants of her clothing from her, leaving her naked and vulnerable, whilst he tauntingly remained half-clothed. 

His mouth moved once more to her neck, lapping and nuzzling at the wounds he made earlier, leaving the area clean with only four small puncture wounds to indicate that he had drawn blood from her. He drew his nail across his wrist, drawing a line of blood to the surface. He brought up, holding it just above her mouth so she was forced to raise her head up off the floor to lick the wound, acknowledging her desire for his intimate gift. As soon as she did so, he lowered his arm allowing her mouth easier access to the wound, stroking along the cut with her tongue and placing kisses over it's length. Though she drew only a minuscule amount of blood into her mouth, it seemed that her whole body flushed as the faint coppery taint mingled with her saliva. Every nerve ending became gloriously sensitive to his touch, as if electric current flowed between the two instead of an exchange of blood.

The chains that held her arms were gone, though she knew that they had not been removed and she rose to a kneeling position knee to knee, opposite him. They stared into each other's eyes and for a moment it was as if they were each other's mirrors. Blonde on blonde, her eyes looking into his glorious molten chips of blue. Each pair fervently seeking something more than passion and desire. When they found acceptance in the other's eyes the blood bond between them took over and each fell upon the other in a frenzy.

Their mouths locked, tongues exploring their partner's mouths. His left hand moved to cup her breast. His thumb drew circles, teasing the erect point of her small dusky nipple. His right hand drew her toward him, long slender fingers grasping her buttock, pressing her hard against him so she was pushed against the bulge in his jeans, which was further emphasised by the subtle grinding motion of his pelvis.

Reaching between them she pressed against his swollen crotch, first with the heel of her hand, then the palm followed by her fingers finally drawing her nails across the ridges in the thick denim fabric. First one small hand and then the other, until her fingertips reached the waistband of his jeans. They brushed lightly across the exposed planes of his stomach and when his muscles contracted in response she gripped the waistband in both hands. She gloried in the strength that allowed her to rip open the front of his jeans and pull them down around his knees all in one sharp movement.

His velvet smooth cock pressed against her stomach. Unable to wait any longer she grasped his shoulders in her hands pushing upwards she hooked her legs around him.

"Now, Spike, Now!" she gasped. "I need you now!" before she slowly impaled herself on his rock-hard erection.

She woke to a felling of emptiness; alone, her legs tangled up in her sweat-drenched sheets. Her body ached for release, but only his cool dick stretching her inner muscles, filling her so completely it hurt was going to do it for her. She rubbed hard and fast at her clit trying to force her body into submission, but the tension refused to leave her body.

Eventually, she got up, got dressed and went out to patrol.

That night she avoided the cemetery where Spike had his crypt.

* * * * *

It had to be done. Really the weather was way to warm for it but she didn't care. No way was Dawn going to let a chance like this go by. She couldn't wait to see Buffy's face. She kinda thought she might like to see the look on the face of that cute guy in her art class too.

She had used rollers in her hair so that it fell in soft waves, a bit less little girlish than normal. She was wearing a bit of mascara and some clear lip-gloss. Just enough make-up to give her a helping hand, but nothing that Buffy could justify telling her to take off. Her black sleeveless top wasn't low-cut, but it was skin-tight. Black bootleg jeans and high-heeled black boots completed her accessories. The duster was the real outfit.

She stalked into the kitchen. (The heels on the boots were a touch higher than she was used to, but she needed them to avoid trailing the hem of the coat along the ground. That meant she had a choice between stalking through the house using kitchen units etc. to absorb her momentum when she wanted to stop or turn a corner; or she teetered, and that so wasn't right with this coat.) Towering over her sister she grabbed a glass and fetched some orange juice from the fridge.

"Wh-what? Why are you wearing Spike's coat?" Buffy stuttered as she realised how Dawn was dressed. She was having nasty thoughts about the last guy who gave Dawn his jacket. What the hell had the peroxide pervert been up to with Dawn? Was this his idea of getting his own back on her for dumping him? He was so-o-o dust.

"Because it's cool, and he gave it to me."

"Why would Spike give you his coat? He even keeps it on when he's…" The sentence died on Buffy's lips stillborn. She coloured, as she thought of her and Spike, against the wall in the abandoned house, in the alley at the back of DMP, on the balcony in the Bronze, in their front yard. Hell, she was getting turned on by his coat! She didn't even have to see him. All it took was the scent of leather, cigarettes and him.

Dawn shrugged. "Something to remember him by? He picked me up from school yesterday so he could say goodbye properly before he headed out." '_Maybe he'd have given it to you if you hadn't been such a primo be-atch!_' she thought.

Dawn deliberately avoided telling her sister that she knew Spike had every intention of coming back. Spike had all but said that he still wanted to come round, but Buffy didn't want him in the house. It was up to her to help her retarded sister wake up and smell the hottie. 

Buffy might think everyone was oblivious, but she (and Willow) knew there was something going on with Spike. There was only one vamp she could have been talking about when she made that comment about, "He's not getting any gentler." The stuttering when she tried to cover had been a sure give away. When she was startled Buffy was a crap liar. It had been common knowledge for ages how Spike felt about Buffy, so if they were sneaking around getting grass stains on Buffy's duffle coat but not telling anyone they were seeing each other, it had to be Buffy being a bitch. Dawn would bet a year's allowance that given half a chance, that the Big Bad would be as soppy as any overgrown teenager with his first date. 

Dawn swore if Buffy didn't get a grip soon and make an honest vamp of him, then she'd give Buffy a run for her money in a couple of years. She was made from Buffy. In a way she was a younger Buffy, and let's face it Spike wasn't getting any older. They already loved each other, but for it to ever be anything else would take years. She knew that Spike didn't consider her in a sexual way, so for now her unrequited crush was doomed to remain just that. The thing was she also loved him like an older brother, a dropped-dead gorgeous older brother who happened to be no relation, perhaps, but she loved him just the same, so she wanted him to be happy now.

"Goodbye? He didn't tell me he was leaving. Why didn't he tell me he was leaving?"

"Why doesn't he get invited to Scooby meetings? Or birthday parties? Why should he tell you?" Dawn finished her drink and picked up her bag. "You all only give him the time of day when you need him for something nobody else can do. Everybody treated him like a person over the summer, but as soon as you were back, he was disposable. You can't cope with how he feels about you, so everyone starts treating him like garbage." She grasped the door-handle. "See you when you get in from work." Dawn made her exit.

'_How's that for something to think about while you're flipping burgers?_' 

****

"Wait, where was he going?" Buffy rushed to catch the door before it shut.

At the far end of the path Dawn pretended not to hear.

* * * * *

Buffy had a nine o'clock start that day, so she didn't have an opportunity to find out any more about Spike's disappearance until later. All of which meant she had far longer than she would have liked to think about what Dawn had said, and how she'd managed to drive another man away, not that she wanted him, and he wasn't really a man either.

Maybe, she wasn't the only person who was using him. During her break she rang Tara and arranged to meet her for a coffee after she got off work.

* * * * *

Tara was already seated at a table drinking an iced mocha when Buffy made it to the coffee bar. Buffy quickly ordered and then joined her.

"Okay, sweetie, what's up?"

In her present state, Tara's innocent question gave Buffy pause. Apart from asking her to her birthday party, Buffy realised that since "the split" she had only spoken to Tara when she wanted something.

"Hey, I don't want you to think there has to be something up before I call you… There is, but I also thought I'd ask if you wanted to go to the Bronze with Dawn and I on the first Friday after the wedding?"

"Sure, but you could have asked that one over the phone, so spill."

"Spike's gone… and he didn't even say goodbye." It was impossible to judge from Buffy's voice how she felt about that.

"Oh! Which bit of that is the bit that's worrying you?"

"Both… neither… I don't know… maybe, that he might think I wouldn't care that he left?"

"Well, I don't think he'd expect you to get all upset over him going away for a few days. Maybe he was just busy getting ready to leave and he didn't have-."

Buffy cut in as she realised what Tara just said. "Why did you say it's just for a few days?"

Tara looked slightly embarrassed. "He left a message asking if I'd do a spell for him. He said he'd probably be at the wedding, but if he wasn't not to worry. It was too late to go to the Magic Box yesterday by the time I got the message, but I was going to head over there after we finished here."

"He didn't want you to do a love spell on me, did he?" Buffy immediately thought of Spike's reaction to Drusilla's rejection.

"Quite, the opposite in a way. He wanted me to do a protection spell on everyone."

"What is he up to?"

"Anyway, it seems to me that there can't be any harm in putting up a protective spell. I just wish I knew what I was meant to be protecting against. There's one other strange thing though. He said to do the spell on everyone to be on the safe side, but he asked very specifically to see that you, me and Dawn were covered, and that I should use the most powerful spell I could do."

"So he phoned you, and he made a point of seeing Dawn, but he couldn't even come in when he dropped her off to tell me he was going."

"Buffy, he phoned me because he wanted me to do the spell, not because he was doing a big goodbye speech, and he said he was going to phone Anya to let her know that he would cover the bill for anything I needed for the spell. He should be back on Saturday. I bet the only person that got a special goodbye was Dawn. You two have had an argument, right? He probably thinks he'll be back before you notice he's gone."

"But, I broke up with him yesterday morning, and then this morning Dawn was wearing his coat. Sh-she said he gave it to her as a reminder of him when he said goodbye."

"Buffy, how upset was Dawn this morning?"

"She wasn't… she was all excited at having his coat…" Comprehension finally "dawned" on Buffy. "The little…" Buffy looked for a word suitable to use for a member of her own family.

"Minx?" Tara smiled softly. 

"If you broke up with him that morning, he probably just wanted some breathing space to pull himself together, in which case you would be the last person he'd be wanting to speak to. How did he take it?"

Buffy thought about what he'd looked like and tears welled up behind her own eyes. "He looked like a man who just had his heart broken. He all but begged me not to do it. Then I told him that using him was killing me. I never thought anyone could look so hurt. I never want to see another person look at me like that again. It was like however much he was hurt for himself, just the thought that I was in pain was ten times worse. After that he just stopped arguing." Tears rolled down her cheeks. 

"Oh, Buffy." Tara's voice conveyed a world of sympathy.

"I've been such a bitch since I came back, and he still cares more about my feelings than all the hurt I've caused him." Tara moved to sit beside Buffy rather than opposite her. She put her arms round the smaller woman and let her cry on her shoulder.

"I wanted to love him. I told myself for months that I couldn't, that he was evil, that he was a soulless vampire and I was a slayer. If I could love him them I hadn't rid the world of hundreds of monsters; I'm a mass murderer. I kept him at a distance for so long. I told myself it was just sex. As soon as my knees stopped shaking, I ran. No holding, no cuddling. I never let him say a tender word, never let him be gentle with me." She sniffed and wiped away tears from her face.

"When Riley came back… I can't believe I did this. I was sort of flirting with him. I think maybe I thought we'd get back together. I was just about to kiss him when his wife turned up. And they're happy. You can tell from a mile off that they're happy. I was supposed to be the love of his life. Everybody said he loved me but I held back, so why is he over me and happy with someone else, and I'm alone." She tried to smile at Tara through the tears.

"I felt so alone and I just wanted to be loved, so I went to Spike. I made him tell me he loved me and that he wanted me. I let him open up his heart to me and lay himself open. I let him hold me, and, God, when we made love I swear we both cried. I don't think I made a conscious decision, but I don't think I could have put things back how they were before. 

It was like making a fresh start, but he was lying to me the whole time. I'd asked him about "the Doctor" and he'd acted as if he never heard of him, but it was him. He was who I'd been looking for and he just lied through his teeth. What I thought was this incredible love scene was his way of stopping me from looking downstairs. His bedroom was full of demon eggs that he was even too stupid to store properly, so we spent the night on top of a stone coffin."

"Buffy, I think you're wrong. He wouldn't … I mean I'm sure his feelings were genuine. Besides, have you never noticed that Spike has to be almost the worst liar I've ever seen? He stutters nearly as bad as me. Didn't he have any explanation?"

"He said he had… but I wouldn't listen to him…" Buffy began to consider that there might be shades of grey in this discussion. "He still had the eggs though. There just can't be a good reason for him to have those. If Riley and I hadn't been there when they hatched, who knows how many people would have been killed?"

"Who would have been first?"

"What are… Oh. Him."

"And did you stop to think why with all the empty crypts and everything just in his cemetery why were they in his bedroom?"

Buffy looked even more unsure of herself.

"You said he didn't store them properly. Are you sure he even knew what they were? Vampires may be virtually immortal, but even so you don't live to Spike's age if you're stupid. There are too many loose ends. I think maybe you should at least hear him out on that explanation, sweetie."

"Riley found us together. He … He said that it was … within mission parameters … He asked me if I wanted him to kill him." Buffy looked up, her eyes red but no longer crying. "I can't let him close. Some day he'll do something and people'll be hurt or killed and I'll have to kill him."

"Like you killed Xander?"

"What? What are you saying?"

"Xander was directly responsible for the deaths of all those people who burned to death when he summoned that singing demon. As I recall no one, not even Giles, said a single harsh word to him.

I don't know about these eggs, but since Spike said he was in love with you, there's been some stuff he's done that's been pretty warped, like chaining you up and the robot, but I can't think of anything that's actually evil. It seems the more he's around people, the more he remembers to act like a person."

"Dawn said we all ignore him except when we need him. She said he had a place when I was dead. That when I came back he wasn't needed any more and because I wasn't comfortable around him everybody treats him like dirt."

"I know over the summer, no one thought anything of it if he stopped by the house to see Dawn even if he wasn't babysitting, and he was quite often babysitting. You'll know better than I do how often he comes over now. Xander toned it down a bit for a while, when he saw, well it hit Spike really hard, you know. Now Xander's acting like it's his job to keep Spike away from you again. That causes friction that carries over into their whole relationship. Giles was basically the same again, but even more extreme. One day they're patrolling together and cracking jokes and a couple of months later you get that comment about Giles never wanting Spike's opinion. The guys see him as a threat you have to be protected from and I don't think he's comfortable visiting Dawn any more. All of us used to go out on patrol together except Dawn so that was a group thing. Does he go to meetings now?"

"So he was better off when I was dead."

"No! I don't think Dawn meant that and I know Spike would _never_ say that."

"Even so, he got on better with everybody else when I wasn't here." Buffy sighed.

* * * * *

Dawn was overjoyed when she got a text message the following Thursday. "STILL LA. BACK V LATE FRI. LEAVE COAT CRYPT? FOR WEDDING SAT. C U SOON." 

Buffy on the other hand had no idea that her sister was in contact with Spike. She had started to patrol until she was all but exhausted in an effort to forestall the dreams in which he had a starring role. Her conversation with Tara had left her in a sort of limbo until she heard exactly what Spike's explanation was. She had been sure about her decision. Now it had been called into question. Would things ever be simple where Spike was concerned?

* * * * *

Spike was enjoying himself. The girl from the club had brought her sister with her. They had also brought a bunch of tapes. He'd told her that he'd made the mistake of leaving home with only the tape that was in the deck at the time. They had discussed musical tastes and found some common ground. Some was expected, the Cramps, the Damned, Siouxsie and the Banshees, the Clash but he was more surprised to find that she also liked some things that he knew must have come out decades before she was born. Early Rolling Stones, Crosby Stills Nash and Young, delta blues, Motown and Louis Armstrong.

It had been just after dusk when he picked the girls up. They had loved the de Soto, but been puzzled by the blacked out windows. Spike had been expecting this and putting on a bad eastern European accent he said, "I am Nosferatu, childe of darkness, drinker of blood." He switched back to his normal voice; "Actually it means I can sleep through the day in the car when I have to if I get stuck in the middle of nowhere." As expected the girls, (one was called Jenny and the other Jane, but he wasn't actually sure which was which so he avoided using either name) thought he was joking about the vampire bit, especially when he ordered pizza at a roadside diner.

They had stayed off the freeway taking roads running along the coast. They wound all the windows down, playing tapes at full volume and singing along even louder, no doubt scaring old ladies and small children in some of the smaller towns they passed through. Some of the songs were obvious seaside road-trip music, like the Beach Boys and California Dreamin' by the Mama's and the Papa's. Some just appealed to the girls' sense of the absurd, for example The Sisters of Mercy doing a cover version of Jolene by Dolly Parton. He wondered what the girl's reaction would be if he made the necessary detour to knock down the Sunnydale sign, but then decided to do it when he went to pick up his duster instead.

It had been a very long time since he had spent this much time with people who didn't know what he was. He sometimes still found it difficult to talk to strangers, and in Sunnydale his reputation preceded him in a lot of cases. He felt for the first time in ages as if he was being judged for who he was not what he was. As they approached the outskirts of Sunnydale, the three gave fair warning to all those who could hear them coming.

__

I walk the line

I walk the line

I walk the line

I walk the line between good and evil

****

Spike had rung ahead and booked two rooms for them at a small motel, a twin room for the girls and a double for him. He would normally have stayed at his crypt, but since he wanted to be more presentable than the norm in the morning he had decided that running water would be an advantage. He'd bought some new clothes as well while he was in LA and he wanted to avoid having them smell of cordite at the wedding.

Once he had sorted out their registrations, he explained he had to run an errand and would see the girls later. When he got back he pulled the car in as close to his room door as possible. He was surprised to see a note stuck to his room door with chewing gum, and written in dark purple lipstick. "Gone for midnight swim. See you at beach?"

Spike tried, without success, to remember the last time he'd gone swimming. Why the hell not?

* * * * *

The next morning Spike was not in the best of moods. The three had stayed up really late. They had swum and then they had gone for a walk along the beach and finally they had lit a bonfire, opened a case of beer and sat talking for hours, until a sudden storm had blown in from the sea, and their dwindling fire had been swamped. In theory, he could have had four or five hours sleep before he had to get ready for the wedding. In practice, the thought of seeing Buffy again the following day made sleep impossible.

He didn't know which he dreaded more, seeing her happy without him or seeing her miserable. He thought about getting in the car and driving across town just so he could park down the street and watch her house. Maybe if he drove over, her light would be on and he'd know she couldn't sleep either. Then he remembered his conversation with Dawn and decided that he was not going to leave any more cigarette butts anywhere where she might find them. He could stay away from Buffy. He walked past the car and back down to the beach. The weather made it a rather unpleasant place to be, but still he preferred it to his motel room. He walked off down the beach, choosing the opposite direction to that taken by the group earlier.

* * * * *

Six hours later, Spike and his date (he still couldn't remember if she was Jenny or Jane) pulled up outside the Sunnydale Bison Lodge.

"What d'ya think? Arms round shoulders, holding hands, what?" Spike exited the car and moved to meet his fellow conspirator.

"Shoulders. Looks more intimate."

****

"Shoulders it is then, pet." He placed an arm around her and steered her toward the main door of the building.

Spike couldn't believe how nervous he felt about seeing her again. He scanned around to see if she was in the foyer, but he couldn't see her so he began to move to one side away from the doors. He heard his name being called from the far side of the room. Before he turned round, which was more complicated than it sounds as he was still joined at the shoulders to his date, he whispered, "little sister". 

"Oh. Uh, I want you to meet my date." Spike was rapidly convincing himself that this was one of his worse ideas.

"Hi. I'm Dawn." She held out her hand for a handshake. Spike listened to see if his date said her own name in response.

"Uh-huh."

"So, yeah. Anyway, that's my date. She's with me. My date for the wedding." '_When will I learn to put my brain in gear before I start my mouth?_' Spike asked himself even as he continued to babble at Dawn.

"Yeah. Okay, well, nice meeting you." Dawn wondered if there was the slightest possibility of that girl being a real date, and decided the answer was no. The way he had his arm round her was too stiff. They both looked tense at being so close. Dawn would bet he didn't know her name. Quite possibly she didn't know her own name, unless it really was "Uh-huh". But hey, if he wanted to try making Buffy jealous, who was she to spoil the fun. In fact, time to go spread the news.

"Very cool?" His date looked him over. The hair was perfect. The black satin shirt was open just enough to show a hint of smooth white chest. There was no way to improve on the duster and he had a brand new pair of "New Rock" boots he'd bought specially instead of his normal scuffed lace-ups. "Calm down, you're acting like a nervous wreck and you've not even seen her. You look great. She's going to be wearing a dress that should be illegal outside of a St Patrick's day parade. You have the upper hand. Let's go."

"Eh, go where?"

"Well, she's not here, so let's try the reception room."

His date looked around the room. She turned and whispered in Spike's ear.

"Say, Spike, did you put something in the milk for my cornflakes this morning, or are some of these people not people?"

"Oh, they're all people, they're just not all human. Long story. Don't worry about it."

"Ri-i-ight."

Spike, had a bad feeling. Harris's dad had just got up to propose a toast. The bar had yet to officially open but Harris snr. had probably bullied the bar staff into serving him and was already slurring his words. If the arguments he'd heard when he'd stayed with Xander, were anything to go by no one wanted to hear any toast the elder Harris might make in his current state, not least because he was the only one in the room who had a drink. Somebody better shut him up, fast, and look, monkey boy was leaving the room with some old fart instead of doing anything about it. Maybe if they'd asked him to be an usher he might have done it for them, but not his job. If Harris wanted to get a bunch of cousins that he never saw as opposed to someone they knew, even if he didn't like the bricklayer then it was up to them to stop the trouble, not him. Harris deserved all the embarrassment his father could provide and serve him right too. Demon-bint didn't deserve it though. A quick smack in the mouth might work, but it wasn't going to get him any Brownie points. 

Too late now, anyway, that tentacle demon obviously had the same idea.

Suddenly, Buffy was there, steering the drunken patriarch from the room. She had an arm round him and he had his head bent over toward her, trying to look down the front of her dress. Spike could hear the lewd suggestions that he was making to her and he wanted to punch him out even more. He realised he'd been staring and he turned around to face his date again. How could she let him touch her, say things like that to her. He smiled when he heard her tone change from the overly bright one she'd been using. "You finish that sentence and I guarantee you won't have anything to show." Now, that was _his_ Buffy.

Even with that dress, a hunk of yellow nylon the size of a dead cat stuck to the back of her head and an inebriated lech attached to her arm he thought she looked beautiful.

"So that was the one?"

"Yeah. That's her."

"You've got it bad for her haven't you?"

"Bad as it gets, I reckon."

"D'you want to talk to her? Or d'you just want to admire her from a distance?"

"Well, yeah, I suppose if we talk here we have to keep it civilised."

"So… I'll go pretend to fix my make-up. That should get you a full ten minutes. You wait in the corner over there. She'll be going backwards and forwards between, the foyer, the reception hall and the rooms where the rest of the wedding party are. If you hang around there she has to go past."

Spike looked around, not so much scanning the room as trying to avoid staring at anyone now that he had nothing to fill the time until his date came back or someone he knew turned up for him to talk to. He became aware that the footsteps, which had been heading rapidly toward the door, had come to a stop some distance away. He looked over, and it was her, Buffy, obviously reluctant to go past him. Uncomfortable, he looked at the floor, hoping the lack of eye contact would allow her passage. Head down, he watched her feet approach. His eyes flicked upwards and once he looked into her face he couldn't let her go without saying something. He straightened up from his slouched position against the wall, so that she now stood directly facing him.

"Hello, Buffy"

"Hey."

"So, the happy occasion." Out of small talk Spike tried bravado, "You meet my friend?"

"No. Not yet. But she seems like a very nice attempt at making me jealous."

He gave a small snort. She found him so transparent. "Is it working?"

"A little. It doesn't change anything… but if you're wildly curious, yeah, it hurts."

"I'm sorry." His first reaction to her pain was remorse, and then he remembered that that had been the point of the exercise, "Or… Good!"

Buffy smiled, amused by his ambivalence.

"You want us to go?"

"No. No, I… You have every right to be here. I pretty much deserve-."

"That's not true, you…" Automatically he defended her, even from herself, his feelings there to be seen in his eyes. He sighed and looked to the heavens for inspiration. "God, this is hard."

"Yeah."

He sighed again. "I think we'll go."

"Go where? To your place?

"Yeah, I suppose." The motel was basically his place at the moment, at least until he got the crypt cleaned out. "That was the idea."

"Yeah."

"Evil."

"Of course."

"But I won't. Or I…" His awkwardness was overcome by frustration. "I'll just go. Give 'em my best or whatever. The happy couple."

"I will."

His grimace turned into a quiet smile.

"It's nice to watch you be happy. For them, even. I don't see it a lot. You, uh… you glow."

Buffy smiled. "That's because the dress is radioactive."

Spike gave a brief snort of amusement and a whole second passed where they just enjoyed the moment together.

"I should…" Buffy broke the silence, hinting at duties to perform.

"Yeah." He moved marginally aside, as she moved round him.

"But it hurts?" Spike sought again the reassurance that he was not alone in his pain.

"Yeah."

"Thanks."

Buffy waited till he was beyond the range of human hearing before she said, "You're welcome." But then Spike wasn't human.

Spike intercepted Jenny or Jane or whatever the hell her name was on her way from the toilet, taking her by the hand.

"Let's go then." He moved towards a fire exit, pulling the girl in his wake.

"What about the wedding?"

"Let's just piss off, all right?" He dragged his off-balance date through the door.

**** Next chapter: Spike gets his rocks back and stands up for himself (but if you want to see it please review because I'm almost at the point of deleting the story and just e-mailing copies of the story to the one or two people who seem to still be reading,) 


	8. Chapter 8

****

In the Name of Love 

By Tales of Spike

**Spoilers:** So far, story started just prior to "As You Were" and has gone from there to the end of "Hell's Bells". It is now about to go AU, so basically "Normal Again" hasn't happened and won't.

****

Disclaimer: 

__

Spike: Right so, this bloke Joss Whedon, the one who made us up. You say it's his fault that you've been a right royal bitch for the last year?

__

Buffy: Well, him, and the people at Mutant Enemy, and the UPN guys and whoever else threw enough money at them.

__

Spike: But if we use your logic, then the only reason I'm me is 'cos of them too.

__

Buffy: Well… duh.

__

Spike: But who would create the masterpiece that is me, and then put me in a situation like... well, where we are. I mean, I know it's supposed to be a Hellmouth, but it's still California. We should get to have some fun.

__

Buffy: Mmh. Conceited much?

__

Spike: (Eyebrow raised) Well even that Joss bloke said I was the best you'd ever had.

__

Buffy: No, he just made you think that you were the best I'd ever had.

__

Spike: Look me straight in the eye and deny it, Slayer!

__

Buffy: (Blushing) N-n-No! R-R-Riley was… (Desperate) A-Angel?

__

Spike: Did you know you stutter when you lie? … Bad little girls who tell lies have to beg forgiveness. I think it's time you had a nice long Spike refresher course so you can see the error of your ways.

__

Buffy: No. Joss says I'm not allowed to do that with you any more. I'm a good little martyr now. Besides the actress that plays me costs too much for them to keep having her take her clothes off. Your actor's cheap.

__

Spike: That would explain why I suddenly went from sleeping with all my clothes on in series 4 to being bollock naked most of the time. (leading Buffy off by the hand towards the nearest thing which could be remotely described as cover) But this isn't the TV show; this is just a story, so we don't need your actress, and that Joss bloke'll never know, well, not if you can keep the volume down a bit…

****

A/N: Okay, I guess NeverMindDaria and faerie babee aren't the only two people to still be reading after chapter 3. I wasn't too sure for about three chapters there. It's hard to gauge how many people might be reading especially since this is a repost. It's easy to convince yourself that 99% of the people who would want to read it probably caught it first time round.

****

Dedication:

To Sarr Chasm : Of course repeat reviews aren't a nuisance. How else do I know that anybody read past Chapter 3? 

Chapter 8 

As soon as they were clear of the reception hall, Spike regretted his curtness. "I'm sorry, pet." He patted down his pockets until he found his lighter and cigarettes. "I guess it's just too soon for me and her to be in the same room." He drew deeply on his cigarette as soon as it was lit, then exhaled in a long white sigh. "Come on, I'll take you back to the motel and you can sort out with your sis what you want to do for the rest of the day."

The ride back to the beach was uncomfortably quiet; the loudest sounds the pounding of the rain on the car roof and the rhythmic squeak of the windscreen wipers. When the car pulled up at their destination Spike made a final effort. "I'll just go get changed. Have a chat with your sister. 

Hanging around the beach isn't going to be up to much in this weather. There's one halfway decent club in town if you fancy going tonight. There'll probably be a live band on, but to be honest it won't be up to much compared with the choice you'd have in LA. So it's up to you whether you try to stick it out and see if you can get some decent weather tomorrow morning or go back to LA now and you can hit the Strip tonight. 

Just give me a knock when you've worked out what you fancy doin'"

He got out of the car and walked round it, shoulders slumped, to his room. When he reached the door he turned back to where the girl was struggling with her door key. He made an obvious effort to come up with a half-smile. "Don't worry, I promise not to spend too long being a misery guts and if you two want to go out alone that's fine too."

He opened his door and once he was in sort of fell against it to shut it, leaning there for several seconds before starting to strip off his rain soaked clothing. Once he was naked he decided he might as well have a shower while he had the chance because once he took the girls back to LA he really should either get back to the crypt or find himself somewhere new to call home. He stood under the steaming hot spray, water running down his body and tried to wash the feeling of numb helplessness out of his system with lemon scented shower gel. He was surprised by the extent to which it worked. By the time he left the shower cubicle he certainly wasn't full of the joys of spring but the numb feeling had gone and he felt able to poke fun at himself for moping around. He was still dressed just in a towel; cigarette dangling from his lips in a Bogartesque fashion when there was a knock at his room door.

"C'm'in!" he called through the cigarette.

"Hi!" It was the second sister. "Jane's just finishing up packing. We decided that it probably wasn't worth hanging round on the off-chance of better weather, so if you don't mind driving back up this afternoon we might as well head for home."

"Sure, give me ten minutes, and we can hit the road."

The trip back to LA was amicable enough, but the group just couldn't seem to recapture the exuberance of the drive to Sunnydale, and Spike didn't have the heart to prolong the evening when he dropped the women off at Jane's home. 

He did a U-turn outside the apartment block and headed back to the Hellmouth. It seemed to him that if the slayer and her groupies were otherwise occupied for the evening, then it just meant all the more for him to do.

When he finally made it back to his motel room for the night, he had a black eye and a couple of cracked ribs. However a spot of therapeutic violence had at least taken his mind off things for a time and he fell into a deep sleep almost as soon as he collapsed on the bed still fully clothed.

* * * * *

The next morning dawned equally dull and overcast and Spike packed his things back into the car, deciding it was time to check out of the motel and see what if anything could be salvaged of his former home. He also decided it was time he tried to make a start on sorting things out with Buffy. Making the decision of course didn't make it any easier to take the first step, and he actually cleared a fair amount of rubble from his crypt to the tunnels which ran underneath before he willed himself into make the phone call he'd been dreading.

"Hello. Summers residence." The voice was Dawn's, but the tone was more subdued than he had expected.

"Hey, Niblet. You don't sound so good this morning. You didn't overdo the champagne did you?"

"You don't know? Xander did a disappearing act. The wedding never happened… Spike?"

"Sorry, pet. You actually did the impossible and stunned me into silence. Seems like the guy just threw away the only thing he had going for him. How's Anya?"

"Total wipe-out. She was just sort of left stranded in the wreckage of the whole thing, and she didn't want any of us to stay with her. She was so happy and then it was all cut out from under her."

"Yeah?" _Been there. Done that._ "Anyway, I was actually calling to see if your sister was about." _Just to see if you can give her the chance to do the same again._ "Maybe now's not a good time."

"I'll give her a shout. BUFFY… PHONE."

He could hear Buffy's muffled reply in the background. "Is it Anya or Xander?"

"Spike"

"Oh", Spike could hear the disappointment in her voice. He desperately wanted to hang up but knew he couldn't.

"Hello, Spike."

"Sorry to be a disappointment."

Buffy sighed. "It's just a bad time…"

"Lately it doesn't seem like there are any good ones."

"So what's the problem, some nasty get a piece of the Big Bad?"

"Actually, yeah, but I didn't think you'd care. I'd like to meet up at the Bronze or one of the coffee places sometime in the next couple of days. I wa-."

He heard her make a sharp intake of breath when he said she wouldn't care, and knew he'd made a mistake, which would probably set the tone of the remaining conversation.

"I wouldn't meet you when… That just sounds too much like a date."

"Bloody Hell, woman! It's an appointment, not a date. You don't want me at the house. I can't have you at the crypt. I need to talk to you about Dawn and I thought somewhere public would be best."

"And that's all you want to talk about?"

"No, it's not bloody well all I want to talk about. You march into … well, less said about that the better, but you come in with everything you want to say all prepared, and you're gone before a guy can get his head straight. Yeah, I've got some stuff I want to say, but the only thing I need to talk to you about is Dawn. Okay?" 

"Why don't I just come to your place?"

"Because…" Spike hesitated torn between telling her the truth, that he didn't know if it was safe there, and just telling her she wasn't welcome. He smiled a sly smile. "You just can't. Right. I don't want any of you round here. Not you, not the munchkin, nobody."

"Spike. You say things like that and it just makes me more determined to come over and see what you're hiding."

"If you do, you won't find much different from how you left it, except the dead bits smell a lot worse. 

Look, you must have a key for the magic shop so you can use the training room when it's shut, so how about I take the tunnels and meet you there. If you don't like what I have to say, go ahead, poke around. It's not like you could make the place any worse. But if you must I'll take you through the tunnels so no one sees you. Be there in a bit… love." Spike switched off his phone, and headed out through the tunnels, singing quietly to himself as he went.

"Spike? SPIKE?" Buffy slammed down the receiver. If it had been anyone else she would probably have used *69 but it never even occurred to her that Spike might have his own phone. She just assumed it was a call box. So she was left with three options. She ignored him, which would put him in a mood, and mean that there was more of a chance that things would get physical when they did meet, or possibly prompt him to come to the house. She could go to his crypt and have a look to see what he was trying to hide, but then what was it Tara had said about him lying? So, she abandoned her pyjamas and got ready to go out. She deliberately picked out some baggy sweats. If she went to the shop she night as well train. Then she cursed herself as she realised how much care she'd taken over her hair and make-up. She made her way to the magic shop, muttering under her breath. 

* * * * *

When she got there, she looked through the window before she approached the door. Spike was behind the counter. She watched as he tilted the cash register back exposing its underside. He seemed to feel for a catch or something, then the till drawer popped open. Knowing that Anya emptied the register every night, she watched to see his face at finding the drawer empty. She was more than a little surprised when he took a piece of paper from the counter wrapped it around something he took from his pocket and put it in the drawer before closing it. It was only then that she remembered what Tara had said about spell ingredients. She wondered what it meant that she was always prepared to think the worst of him. He moved out from the counter to take a seat on the stairs leading down from the loft area. Buffy waited outside the door for a few minutes before she entered the shop.

"You know Anya doesn't like you smoking in here."

"I haven't set fire to anything, yet, and I doubt she's going to be in here tomorrow like it's business as usual. It doesn't work that way when someone you care about ditches you like last week's trash." He sighed. "Sorry. I hoped that we could manage a proper conversation, and then it's me that goes off it at the first thing you say. Can we start again?"

She half smiled. "Hi, Spike."

"Hi, pet. D'you mind if we talk about the Niblet first? That way if we can't keep our tempers under control then we've at least sorted out the stuff about her."

"Okay, why don't you want her around your crypt?"

"Same reason I don't want you or anybody else there, and that's all to do with what I want to leave till later, pet. What I want to talk to you about is that muck up at your birthday party. Dawn's spending too much time fending for herself." When he saw her look he proceeded quickly before she could interrupt. "I know you can't help most of it. You have things that have to be done. What I'm getting at is I'd like to be there for her more. When you were… indisposed I was round there practically every day. I miss her and I know she misses me. You said the other night you wouldn't betray her by letting me in the house. She sees it a bit different. She noticed the fag ends. She feels betrayed because I wait outside for you rather than going in and spending time with her."

"I'm not having you hanging round the house all the time."

"The way things are, love, it's the last thing I want. I told you months ago that I can't do the friend bit. I meant it. My original plan was to see if she could come straight to mine from school and I could help her with her homework and stuff, maybe get her… Anyway that idea's no good any more, but maybe a couple of nights a week I could take her out to a movie or something. Sort out some sort of regular thing so she knows where she stands, or at least regular when I get back."

"Well I must admit I preferred the idea of helping her with homework to the idea of the two of you in a cinema."

"Hey, you make that sound as if… You know there's only one Summers I'm interested in like that."

"Why don't you come to our place, you could leave when I get in from work."

"Can't. It has to be public, the busier the better."

"What's all this about? Why not here? You can use the tunnels and it's near the school, and you can walk her back when it's time."

Spike considered. "I think it's workable. If I take her out through the tunnels it should do."

"Tell me what on earth has got you this paranoid?"

"Didn't anybody ever tell you that it's not paranoia if they really are out to get you?" Spike smirked, unable to resist taunting her.

"Just spill. I've had enough of the pre-show."

"Okay, but only if you promise to think seriously about the two of us while I'm away."

"There is no two of us. I told you that. Why can't you take no for an answer?" She looked frustrated and almost tearful.

Spike reached out and took her chin in his hand, forcing her to look into his eyes. He let his feelings show there. "'Cos I love you, Slayer, and I've thought through where things went wrong before and I think if we made a fresh start we could do it right this time. 

I know you don't love me, but I think if you let yourself get to know me, I think you could. I want a chance to start over totally fresh, just start by having coffee, or going to a movie, or going to see a band at the Bronze. I want to learn all the little things like what your favourite movie is and whether you like your popcorn sweet or salty. 

I want to walk you home after a date and share a goodnight kiss on the doorstep. I want to go back to the beginning and get everything in the right order, starting with making it common knowledge we're dating, so that next year I'm not still carrying your birthday present round with me a month after its been and gone."

"Spike, I can't, there's just no way."

"Think of this, Slayer. I love you. I want you to be happy even if it means I'm miserable. If I thought you'd be happier alone or with someone else then I would stay the hell away from you, but I happen to believe that, warped as it may seem, we're meant to be together. Until your ex turned up the other night I thought you might believe it as well. 

If you're prepared to think through what I'm going to tell you with an open mind and give what we could have a chance then fine. If you've already decided I'm too much of a monster for you to ever love and I've decided we can't be friends then we haven't got anything else to say to each other. You can either stay the hell out of my life or stake me now. It's up to you, love, but be aware as long as I'm still walking the earth, I'm coming back to Sunnydale, and I'm staying as long as Dawn's here. I won't go away like the others and make it easy for you to forget me. And every time we run into each other you'll wonder whether you were so scared of what other people think that you rejected the only man who loved you for everything you are. You'll always wonder what might have happened if you had taken the risk."

He released his hold on her chin.

"It's up to you, love."

****

End of Chapter 8


	9. Chapter 9

**In the Name of Love **

By Tales of Spike

Spoilers: So far story started just prior to "As You Were" and has gone from there to the end of "Hell's Bells". After that it's AU, so basically "Normal Again", "Entropy" etc. haven't happened and won't.

****

Disclaimer: #1

__

Spike: I still like the Faith idea. How do you get a phone call through to someone in prison?

__

Buffy: And like I'm supposed to know 'cos…?

__

Spike: Alright, pet. Point taken. Maybe we could write. How well do you two get on? Could you convince her?

__

Buffy: Ehm… She kind of thinks, I'm some sort of goody-two-shoes who couldn't manage to have fun even if she did get the broom handle surgically removed from her butt.

__

Spike: Ah! I remember that phase in our relationship. She might come round, but not as far as I did, I hope, at least not unless I get to join the fun.

__

Buffy: Spike! You're a

__

Spike: Pig. Bloody hell! If this bloke Joss and all those companies own us, can't they afford to buy you another insult? That one is seriously tired, pet.

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Buffy: Just because I've got better things to do than sit around all day watching Passions and thinking up new insults and nicknames for everybody

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Spike: Hmph! It's not all day…

****

Disclaimer: #2 

Just in case I rip off anyone's lyrics and abuse them, and then forget to say who they are, I'll at least make it clear that no lyrics are mine. They all belong to other people with talent.

****

Feedback: I'd really like feedback, I get all insecure without it and start to think no one's reading this crap I produce, so bring it on at Sandy.Osborne@blueyonder.co.uk.

****

Chapter 9 

He stared into hazel eyes, and all he could read there was confusion and pain. He wanted so much to fold her into his arms and hold her till that hurt look went away, but he was the one who put it there and he knew if he didn't stand his ground now then he truly would be nothing but her lapdog. 

"It's up to you, love."

"Spike, I just can't…"

He got up, and walked towards the stairs leading down to the basement. "Tell the Niblet I'll be here tomorrow when she gets off school then."

"Wait! I didn't mean…"

Spike stood still, keeping his back to her, determined she was not going to see him cry again.

"I need time. I can't take all this in. I thought things would go back to how they were and now you say they can't. I don't know what I think."

He kept his back to her, his voice soft. "All you have to decide is whether you've entirely ruled out all possibility of anything between us. If you have any doubt at all, and you're willing to listen that's as much as I'm asking. Take as long as you want to think about it, but I'll be leaving town next Monday." He turned, making sure, finally, to catch her eyes. "I meant what I said about the crypt. I don't want you or Li'l Bit showing up there. Dawn knows how to reach me if you decide you want to talk."

Buffy sat where he left her, trying to take in the bombshell that had just hit her. For some reason, even after he brought a date to the wedding, she'd just assumed that Spike would be there for her, if ever she wanted him, on whatever terms she chose to set. Now she felt as if he were preparing to surgically remove her from his life. She'd seen the purple shading around his eye, and the almost imperceptible hitch in his gait that indicated some other injury. What was it he'd said on the phone? _"Didn't think you'd care."_ So why was it that she'd wanted to hold his face in her hands and place feather kisses over the bruise? The first of three black eyes in as many weeks that she hadn't caused. How could she even consider getting back into that again? Yet, somehow the idea of him not being a part of her life was almost impossible. Why was he doing this to her? Spike wasn't supposed to set terms for her to meet.

Why was she even considering this? She'd come to her decision last week. Why would she want to change her mind now? A slayer can't love a vampire, not a soulless one anyway. It was perverse. He was evil. Or was he? And he smokes. Can't want to be with the evil soulless bloodsucking fiend. Can't…

* * * * *

Spike checked the battery and signal indicators on his phone for about the tenth time in the last hour. An hour in which his mind had been unable to focus on the poker game he should currently have been enjoying. He now owed Clem six kittens and that was only because Clem had owed him eight before the start of the game. It was time he quit before he ended up any further in debt. Money was one thing, but acquiring kittens when you were on a losing streak was a bit more difficult, especially now that it was a fair bet that Sharkey wouldn't be giving him any more credit.

"Fold, and cash in. I'll settle up end of the week, Clem. Unless you fancy flat-sitting my place while I'm away instead?"

"How long are you going for?"

"At least a couple of weeks, but it could run a lot longer?"

"Call it a deal if you fill the fridge with beer and leave enough fuel to keep the generator running."

"Done. We can sort out the details later in the week. Bye, mate"

Head down, Spike headed out from the bar. She wasn't going to ring. If she'd been going to ring she would have rung by now. She said she wanted time but surely he wasn't that bad a guy? All he was asking for was that she admit the smallest possibility. Hadn't they had something? If it hurt to see him with Jane (now he could remember her name) then she must care, so why can't she admit it? Because you told her it had to be out in the open and she's ashamed of you. He filled with pain as the hours stretched out, each extra hour seeming to indicate a lowering of her opinion of him. 

Spike wandered aimlessly down the rain-washed streets. He wondered how he was going to cope with keeping all this bottled up inside, knowing there was no one he could talk to. Then again, if it was going to be a total split then what was she going to do if he told someone? Stake him? He didn't think so. He doubted even Buffy could bring herself to do that, however pissed off she might be. Maybe if she didn't ring before the weekend he'd get it all off his chest with Tinkerbell or demon-chick. Maybe they could form a mutual consolation society.

Spike's meandering path took him past a liquor store and he detoured to pick up a couple of bottles of JD and a carton of cigarettes before continuing on. It was almost inevitable that allowing his so-called random path would lead him to Revello Drive. When he realised where he was, he couldn't resist checking to see if she was visible. There was no light on in her room, but someone had lights on in both the living room and the dining room although through the curtains he couldn't tell who was there. He forced himself to keep walking instead of stopping at his favourite tree. He worked his way round the building, careful to stay far enough away to evade even slayer senses. Then he saw her. She was sitting on the steps of the back porch. Sitting where they had sat together, trying to make one decision he couldn't help her with. He kept walking, more content now. She was still thinking about it. She hadn't decided not to phone, or at least not yet. There was still hope.

* * * * *

Buffy had been sitting on the porch for the last two hours. She was no nearer to making a decision now than she had been this morning, she'd thought about seeking out advice from some quarter, but she felt as if doing that would almost be a decision in itself. Tara would be supportive of any choice she made and might ask a few pertinent questions. She probably wouldn't give out any advice one way or another but she'd seemed disappointed when she'd originally told her about the two of them. Dawn would almost certainly endorse any relationship with Spike, as long as her own crush on the evil dead didn't interfere. Xander, if she could have found him would be more than happy to hear Spike was going to break off contact. So would Giles and Willow wasn't even fit to make her own decisions at the minute never mind advise anyone else. So if she chose who to ask, then she had already chosen what advice she was going to get. She went back indoors, deciding to have a quick word with Dawn before she went out on patrol.

"Dawn?" She knocked on the teenager's bedroom door.

"Come in." Dawn sat in front of her dressing table in her pyjamas, brushing tangles out of her still damp hair.

"If you come sit in front of the bed, I'll do that." Dawn passed the hairbrush to her sister before taking up a position by her feet.

"I talked to Spike today."

"Well, duh. I seem to recall passing the phone to you."

"Okay, I saw Spike today, then. He said he missed you, that he'd been seeing a lot of you last summer, but now he hardly sees you at all. Do you miss him?"

"Of course I do. Why?"

"So you'd be okay if he were to meet you at the Magic Box straight after school a few nights a week and walk you back, maybe get you something to eat."

"Are you kidding? If you're giving me a choice between Spike's cooking and a Doublemeat Medley I'll take Spike's cooking any day."

"Spike cooks? I was thinking take-out?"

"He was still learning, but he says anybody that can read can follow a recipe. He does a mean stir-fry."

For a while the only sound was the gentle swish of the brush through Dawn's hair.

"What is it with you two? I mean what is it you see in him?"

"You mean why don't I think he's just an irritating wanker?" Dawn looked up to see Buffy's face.

"That's one way to put it."

"It's how he thinks you think of him."

"He told you that?"

"Well, I told him I thought he was an irritating wanker sometimes, but I still liked him, and he said you only ever got the hang of the first bit. He said that's why he doesn't come round the house any more."

Buffy couldn't help the snort of amusement. "Ever the wordsmith! So why is it that you only think he's an irritating wanker some of the time?"

Dawn wondered where this was going. "Because he doesn't expect me to be someone I'm not. If I was miserable, he'd let me be miserable. Everybody else would spend all their time trying to cheer me up, and I'd end up feeling guilty I didn't feel better. And he doesn't treat me like a fifteen-year-old; he treats me like Dawn. And when I was all messed up about where I came from, it was him that said he didn't see where I came from made the difference, it was who I was now. It's like there's nothing you could do or be that would make him judge you, he just accepts everyone for what they are."

"How can you say that? What about him and Xander, the pair of them are at each others' throats whenever they're in the same room."

"Yeah, and nine time out of ten it starts with Xander trying to warn him away from you, and it seems to me that you've probably given Spike reason to think you don't want him to listen to the warnings."

"What do you mean?"

"Little chats on the back porch, patrolling- you never take anyone else now, grass stains on your jacket, "He's not getting any gentler"? Do you want me to go on?"

"Oh."

"Yeah, and I wasn't the only one that picked up on that comment either. You're not fooling anyone. Why not just do whatever it is you're doing out in the open? Sure, Xander'll freak for about five minutes, but he'll just have to get over himself? He got used to Angel, didn't he, and any idiot can see Spike's better for you than he was."

"You're not the least bit afraid of him, are you?"

"Only, in the way that I was glad it was Giles doing "the talk" at Halloween, not him. He's really cool about stuff, but when he puts his foot down he puts it down. I know he'd never lay a hand on me. 

You're afraid of him though or you wouldn't have asked."

"Yeah, well you were around when Angel turned. Can't you see it could be the same thing all over again if Spike's chip stopped working."

"What are you looking for here? Nobody comes with a guarantee, but I can see a lot of reasons why Spike and you would work together, not least of which is the fact that he loves you so much that he'd sooner stake himself than do anything he thought would disappoint you let alone hurt you. Open your eyes. Chip or no chip that guy is even more gone on you now than he was when you got engaged, except this time it's real."

Buffy thought about the demon eggs, she'd been so sure he was guilty, but that was what she'd thought when she saw him open the till at the shop, too. She'd opened it herself after he'd gone. He'd left two hundred dollars and a note for Anya saying that if she found it before she got her telephone messages he was available if she wanted to speak to someone who wasn't "Xander's". 

"And if I told you those demon eggs we were looking for were in his crypt?"

"I'd ask why he would be ringing up to find out what type of demon it was if he's supposed to be the evil mastermind."

"What do you mean?"

"He rang up the next night from LA to see if we knew what type of demon eggs they were."

"Why didn't you mention this before?"

"'Cos Willow remembered and you were out patrolling. It didn't seem important, everybody else knew, why not tell Spike? Look I'm sure if you give him a chance he'll have an explanation. Now are you going to tell me what's going on with you two."

Buffy sighed. "We were seeing each other for a while, but when I found out about the eggs I broke up with him. Now something's going on but he refuses to tell me anything about it. He says he can't be my friend."

"Oh. I know this bit… "You're not friends. You'll never be friends. You'll be in love till it kills you both. You'll fight and you'll shag, and you'll hate each other till it makes you quiver, but you'll never be friends. Love isn't brains… it's blood, blood screaming inside you to work its will." Didn't know you'd got to the shagging stage?" Dawn smirked in a way that left no doubt as to who she'd learned it from.

"Wait. How do you know about that?"

"You can't blame me if the monks gave me a false memory about reading your diary. I memorised it, it sort of seemed almost like poetry."

Unfortunately, much as Buffy wanted to get upset over it her logic was sound, she hadn't actually read the diary, even if she remembered it as if she had.

"So you dumped him. He's not interested in half-measures. What do you do now?"

"If I say that it doesn't matter what he says, I'm not prepared to see him openly, then nothing."

"Why wouldn't you at least hear him out?"

"Dawn, what was going on between us, it wasn't healthy, and we both knew it, but if he hadn't done something outright evil I still wouldn't have had the courage to break up with him."

"And how much of what was wrong would have been fixed if you hadn't been sneaking around?"

"A lot, but not all. I'm the Slayer. He's the Slayer of Slayers. How twisted is that?"

"Stop looking at who he was four years ago, or three years ago or two years ago. Look at who he is now. All that Slayer of Slayers stuff means now is that he's your equal. He never managed to kill you. You never managed to kill him. Now he is or he was your partner. You live on the Hellmouth. You don't get to have normal and if you did get a normal guy he wouldn't be enough for you or you'd be too much for him."

"You sound like Riley."

"Yeah, so he was a psych graduate; and he couldn't help feeling inadequate, even though he knew what he was doing."

"Yeah, but when Riley said that I told him I'd be sleeping with Spike if that was what I wanted."

"And your point is…"

"You're not going to give up are you?"

"Give up the chance for the two people I care most about to be happy together? Why would I do that? 

So I can watch Spike be utterly miserable for years till I'm old enough to try for him myself?"

"Okay, I'm going out on patrol and then I'll sleep on it and you can keep your Lolita-like mitts off him at least till tomorrow."

* * * * *

That night, the dream she'd had changed slightly. When the tiger leapt towards her it changed in mid-leap into the form of the first slayer, who then crouched on her chest. They each repeated their words from her vision a year before, from the night she found out about the 'bot, the night Spike had been tortured but had refused to betray Dawn and her.

__

"You are full of love. You love with all of your soul. It's brighter than the fire… blinding"

"I'm full of love? I'm not losing it?"

"Only if you reject it. Love is pain and the slayer forges strength from pain. Love… give…forgive. Risk the pain. It is your nature."

Buffy woke, roused prematurely by this change in the pattern of her dreams. She remembered what she had told Spike later that same night. She'd told him she wouldn't forget what he'd done for her and Dawn. She owed him at least a chance to make things right. She would take the risk.

End of Chapter 9 


	10. Chapter 10

**In the Name of Love**

By Tales of Spike

Spoilers: Story started just prior to As You Were and runs through to the end of Hells Bells. From there on the story goes AU, so Normal Again, Entropy etc haven't happened and won't.

****

Disclaimer:

US government facility for the rehabilitation of young ladies.

Los Angeles

Dear Slayer,

I have a plan to get you out of where you are.

It has recently been brought to my attention that you, me and all the other people in Sunnyhell are owned by some pillock called Joss Whedon (who appears to have brought us all forth fully formed from his imagination) and by the various companies that he formed or that bought bits of us from him, like ME, UPN and Fox. 

I would imagine that life isn't too great for you where you are. Round here things have been pretty miserable. My theory is that this Joss wanker is going through some sort of depression and it's feeding through to all the things that are happening round here. Just one more person who likes to cheer themselves up with a round of "Kick the Spike."

Now I reckon that a bit of "Slayer lovin'" would do wonders to improve the emotional inadequacy of this Joss guy, and I'm sure that after a couple of years in there you're feeling the need for some masculine company. Failing that you may be able to slip some sort of mood enhancing drug into his coffee. He would surely then arrange for you to get probation or something. 

In addition he would almost certainly give us here on the Hellmouth a bit of a break from the pit of despair that Sunnyhell seems to have become.

Please reply if you think you can help us out with this problem.

Tarrah for now, pet.

Spike a.k.a. William

PS I would ask Buffy to do it, but when we're on speaking terms I prefer to keep her to myself, and when we're not then she wouldn't do a damn thing for me anyway.

****

Feedback: I'd really like feedback, I get all insecure without it and start to think no one's reading this crap I produce, so bring it on at Sandy.Osborne@blueyonder.co.uk.

****

Chapter 10

Spike continued his walk. Three hours later he was still following no set route, but now moving in the general direction of home. He planned to make the final approach to the crypt via the underground tunnels just in case the cemetery was once again under surveillance but for the moment he was taking a zigzag path through alleys to reach the tunnel entrance he preferred. 

She was still thinking about it, and that gave him some hope. He was also disappointed, saddened that when he asked for so little it would take her so long before she'd even concede that much. He saw an empty can lying in the gutter and swung at it with his foot, launching it fifty yards down the road. He was slightly startled when he realised he had almost hit someone coming in the opposite direction. The back alleys of Sunnyhell were generally avoided by all but the city's bravest denizens at this time of night. Even with superhuman eyesight, with few streetlights he was pretty close when he realised that the figure was neither human nor vampire, but demon.

As he moved closer, he raised a hand in greeting. "Sorry 'bout the can. Din't see you were there, mate."

The demon was about half a head taller than Spike. Its skin was a pinkish red shade with large dark coloured sores and it had a mouth full of pointed yellowing teeth that almost resembled a muzzle. The hair on its head was thin and straggly. Getting closer, Spike was almost sure it was female. He was sure it was holding a stake. With a growl, it lunged toward him, and Spike countered with a roundhouse kick that knocked the wood flying from her hand. Spike tried to place the demon, knowing that there was something important he needed to remember. 

Now that the demon was disarmed Spike felt far better about his chances. As long as the stake stayed lost and the fight finished before sunrise all he had to worry about was having his head pulled off or fire. Spike traded a couple of punches with the demon, neither really gaining an advantage, each equally strong. Spike watched the large almost tentacled hand come towards his face and as he twisted aside to avoid the blow something clicked in his brain. "Bloody Hell! What goes around comes around." He aimed a couple of kicks at the creature and waited for his opportunity. 

As the demon threw another left-handed punch towards Spike's head, he grabbed the incoming fist in his right hand, ducked under the blow and moved round behind the demon forcing her arm behind her back. Then with the help of her own momentum he pushed her headfirst towards the nearest wall. He used his left hand to ram her head repeatedly into the wall to no apparent effect, whilst keeping her left hand twisted behind her back. Still he tried to remember just what it was about this particular type of demon that lay just beyond his mental grasp. With some effort he managed to pull the ring from the oversized fingers. Releasing his grip on the hand he had been holding, he sprang backwards before the demon could turn to continue the fight.

Spike couldn't believe it. Despite six or seven vampire-assisted head-butts to the wall the demon's face was unmarred. Realisation came. It was a Parov demon. It could only be killed by drowning. Spike struggled to maintain his defence whilst searching frantically for any accumulation of rainwater large enough to drown the creature. For once in it had been raining solidly for two days; somewhere there must be something. The flow of water in the gutters was shallow, and no other possible solution presented itself. Hoping that the creature was at least dazed from its collisions with the wall, Spike took to his heels, listening intently for any sounds indicating a pursuit.

It appeared that either the creature had been dazed by his attack or it knew that it couldn't match his pace. Spike reached an entrance to the tunnels under the town without further incident. If he had a Parov demon after him, he was going to stick to the sewers and the storm drains. No travelling above ground unless absolutely necessary.

He made his way back to the magic shop. It was less likely they'd have it staked out than Buffy's place. Whoever wanted him out of the way had just upped the ante. He needed to leave Sunnydale tonight and he couldn't take the de Soto. 

He took a seat at the research table and opened one of the bottles he'd bought. Remarkably both had survived the fight, one in either pocket of his duster. His carton of cigarettes however had been abandoned in the gutter. He took a couple of swigs from the bottle and then loosely replaced the cap, making sure it could be quickly removed. Then he repeated the process with the second bottle. He stripped off his top half, wadding up his T-shirt before replacing his shirt and coat. He replaced the bottles in the coat pockets and pushed the T-shirt in around one of them. At least now if he ran into the Parov again if he could pin it down he could soak the T-shirt and hold it over its nose and mouth. It might work.

After some internal debate, he decided to risk phoning Buffy. Part of him didn't want to do it but common sense told him it was his best option.

* * * * *

Buffy was making herself some hot chocolate when the phone rang. It was quarter past two in the morning. She ran to reach the phone before it woke anyone else.

"Summers residence?"

"Slayer, is that you?"

"Spike, do you know what time it is?"

"Well, according to the little clock on my phone it's half five, but I don't think that's ever been set. I know I didn't set it." 

"Have you been drinking?"

"In the strictest sense of the question, yes, but if you're asking whether I'm drunk, then no, not by a long shot, pet."

"So why are you ringing at this time?"

"Maybe I just wanted to see if you've come to any decision about the little talk we had this morning."

"And it couldn't wait till morning?"

"No. Actually. It couldn't. So do we have a verdict?"

Buffy sighed. "Stunts like this don't exactly tip the balance in your favour, but yeah I'll hear what you have to say."

"Good. The only problem is I've got to get out of Sunnydale tonight, and clear some ground before sun-up. Do you think if you concentrate on it you would be able to tell if your place is being watched?"

"I can pick up on vamps if they were close enough, but not really if it was humans or anything else."

"In that case I can't risk coming over there. If you don't mind I'd like to borrow yer mum's car. I'll need to paint out the windows, but I promise I'll scrape 'em clean once everything's all sorted."

"What is going on?"

"Buffy, there's just too much to tell you over the phone. If I tell you what I need, then when you bring it over we can cover the basics, but for now, for once, can you just trust me?"

There was a pause of several seconds before Buffy replied. "Yeah, I suppose so."

"Right then, love. I'm going to need the car. If you've got any paint I can use for the windows that would be handy because I don't know anywhere that's open this time of night. Emulsion would be easier to get off afterwards but the darker the better. I need to look different as well so if you've got a couple of sweatshirts and maybe a jacket preferably with a hood that'll fit and aren't pink, I'd be grateful."

"So once I sort out this little lot where am I supposed to take it assuming I'm still not allowed near your home."

"Don't mention any place names over the phone just in case, but remember you found me looking for a weekend place?"

"Hmph! Yeah I remember. I'll meet you there."

"Buffy, if you're followed, love, just turn back. I'll sort something out. I think it's probably only me they're after, but I don't think extra casualties'll bother them too much. Don't do anything silly on my account."

"You seem pretty spooked what are we talking about?"

"I thought you were going to trust me. I'll talk to you when you get here. Just don't take any chances. Ask Niblet for the phone I gave her, that way if you have to turn back or anything you can let me know."

"You gave Dawn a phone?"

"Well, I promised to look after her, she had to be able to reach me if she needed to…"

"Okay, see you in a bit."

"Fine. If you get there first, just wait or ring, but I don't know if the phone will work all the time. Oh and if you run into a big red bint with straggly hair and a mouth like an orthodontist's worst nightmare then remember the only way to kill her is drowning, so don't bust a gut trying to beat her into submission.

Bye, love."

"Bye."

* * * * *

Buffy poured the hot chocolate she'd been making into a Thermos flask. She grabbed a packet of marshmallows from the cupboard and put them next to it. She had a couple of grey sweatshirts and a hooded tracksuit top in a bag by the counter. She'd looked round the basement for some paint, but after the flood, there had been a lot of stuff thrown out and it didn't look as if they had any paint left. She grabbed a couple of heavy blankets from the closet in her room instead. He wasn't going to like it, but he'd just have to live with it.

She went to her sister's room. "Dawnie?" She shook her gently until she woke up. "Dawnie?"

"Mmm?"

"Dawnie, Spike's been on the phone. He's in some sort of trouble. I'm going to go meet him and get him out of town. He said I should borrow the phone he gave you. Now, I want you to do two things for me. Get yourself to school on time, and ring work. Tell them I've got a stomach bug or something. If I'm not back by tomorrow morning ring and tell them I'm no better. I'll try to be back no later than tomorrow night, but I'll ring you tonight anyway. Think you can manage that?"

"Mm. Sure. You are coming back though, aren't you? Both of you?"

"Yeah. You bet. I'll be back as soon as we can get him somewhere safe, and I don't know what sort of trouble he's in but he'll fix it somehow and when he does, he'll come home. You're his home, Dawn. He'll always come back to you." She realised as she said it that it was the truth. He would always come back.

* * * * *

"You are not bloody well coming with me!"

"You don't have a choice. Unless you want to sit here and wait for them to find you?"

"Buffy, give me the keys." 

"No way, and don't even think about hot-wiring it or I'll report it stolen."

"You wouldn't."

"If you leave me behind, sure I would. You need me. For one thing I have ID that matches the registration documents. I can drive through the day without having to black out the windows. You can stay out of sight under the blankets in the back. There's less chance of anyone seeing you."

"And who's looking after Dawn?"

"She'll be okay until we can get you somewhere safe."

"What if they realise you're helping me and try to use her as a bargaining piece? What then? Go. Home."

"The longer you stall and the louder we argue the more chance there is of that. No-one was following me. If we're gone before they know it then they've got no reason to go near Dawn, and as soon as you're somewhere safe I'll go back home."

Realising that arguing wasn't getting him anywhere, he tried pleading. "I just don't want anything to happen to you or Dawn, and if you leave her she's in the house alone with Willow. Are you sure that's safe?"

"Okay, I'll cut you a deal, whichever way we go, by this afternoon you can stick me on a bus back to Sunnydale, provided by then we've got the paint for the windows sorted out. I'll be home by tonight."

Spike sighed. "Done."

She tossed him the car keys. "And while you're driving you can tell me what on earth is going on…"

****

End of chapter 10


	11. Chapter 11

**In the Name of Love**

By Tales of Spike

Spoilers: Story started just prior to As You Were and runs through to the end of Hells Bells. From there on the story goes AU, so Normal Again, Entropy etc haven't happened and won't.

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Disclaimer:

Dear Spike,

Thanks for your letter. Don't get to hear much of anything in here. Can't say that I've heard anything before now about everybody being owned by this guy Joss and all those companies, but I'll take your word for it. It explains a lot. 

I guess your plan might work and if you're right about swinging an early release then I'll be five by five. One question, how do I actually hook up with this guy? It's not like I can catch up with him while he takes a stroll in the park.

Way to go on getting B to give it up. Didn't think she had it in her to go for a bad boy like you, let alone keep him. But then maybe I should have known that a guy like you wouldn't let that little speech B made in the Bronze go unanswered for too long. That was quite the challenge to any red-blooded male, wasn't it? Who'd have thought sweet innocent little B even knew words like that? 

But see, the thing is, the body might have been B's but I was the one in charge or had you already compared notes and figured that one out. I must say I kinda wish I'd tried a night with you instead of soldier boy. Less potential to annoy B at the time, but I lay odds it would have been a night to remember. Speaking of which I hope I haven't ruined one of your favourite memories.

Bye for now

Faith

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A/N Another longish chapter again, but I just wanted to pack Buffy off homeward and be ready to get to the chip bit next chapter. Hope you like. Tell me if you do (or even if you don't).

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Feedback: I'd really like feedback, I get all insecure without it and start to think no one's reading this crap I produce, so bring it on at Sandy.Osborne@blueyonder.co.uk.

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Chapter 11

"Are we sitting comfortably, kiddies? Then we'll begin…" Spike's parody of a 1970's British children's program was lost on the Slayer. He turned the key in the ignition and set off. "Once upon a time, in a land far away, lived an Evil Soulless Vampire and his beautiful Dark Princess…"

"Spike, I want to know what's going on now, not a hundred years ago."

"Yeah, but to get you to understand what's happening now, I have to tell you how it started, and that was back in Prague before I ever met you. You have to understand that back then I'd have done anything for her. She…" Spike was lost for words, but his eyes gleamed with tenderness and regret as he thought of his ex-lover. "Well, I know that you believe that you need a soul to love someone, but me and Dru, we had something together that I just can't explain to you."

"Spike. I don't believe that any more…about a soul…" If Buffy had thought she was jealous of the girl at the wedding, when she saw the look in his eyes as he thought of Drusilla, she felt a cold gnawing in her stomach that was almost physical.

"Well… Good… 'Cos it was never true, but if you don't let me just get this all out… then I guess you'll still be sitting here tomorrow instead of back home with the Li'l Bit, so you're just going to have to listen. It was in Prague, about five years ago…"

* * * * *

"So we come to Sunnydale, and I forget all about the contract until some lawyer turns up at my door last week. I wanted to tell you about it, love, but I didn't dare. See, I knew if I told you, you would destroy the eggs and to keep my end of the contract I was supposed to protect them. But when you asked me about the Doctor, I honestly hadn't the least clue what you were talking about. I mean I was literally praying the whole time that you were working up to asking about him that you weren't going to ask about the eggs, maybe it would have been better if you had. I honestly don't know if I could have lied to you about having them. I mean when the Boy Scout came in, it turned into a pissing contest and no way was I going to back down in front of him, but if you'd asked me I don't know…"

"Look, I can see you felt you had an obligation, but didn't you feel like what you were doing was wrong."

"You mean did I feel guilty about doing it? No, I can't honestly say that I did. But it hurt. The idea that I was doing something that might mean I lost you, or even if I didn't lose you that you'd be disappointed in me. It hurt."

"Then why?"

"Well for one thing, when I signed that contract I gave my word, but if that had been all, I think I might still have told you, but just made sure you had to kick my butt to get at them. I know that sounds stupid, but hey, you think I am anyway. Stupid, incompetent Spike, so what's new? No, the problem was the little clause they put in, just in case by the time they want to pick up the contract, you might have changed your mind. I'll be honest I don't know whether or not the contract itself was magical. As long as there was a chance that it might be, then I didn't dare do anything but what they wanted me to do."

"So what was in this clause, were they going to kill Drusilla?"

"No, and I can't say what my reaction would have been if they had been going to. No, they'd been checking up, they knew what had been happening over the summer, Buffy, and they had photographs of the two of us together. They said if I didn't do what they wanted then- actually, they made a point of not saying, but they implied that if I didn't co-operate, then you and Dawn and Tara would die." Buffy looked as if she might interrupt, but he quickly continued before she could say anything. 

Look, I don't blame you if you don't believe me, because even to me it sounds like it could all just be made up to cover my own arse, and I reckon if you actually trusted me you would never have gone downstairs with Soldier Boy not to mention coming up with a better reason for it not to be me than the fact you thought I was incompetent. By the way that hurt the first time round when you said it and repeating it didn't make it any better. Sure Finn-boy has to convince himself that I'm some sort of subhuman, because if I'm a person then it's him and his precious Maggie Walsh that are the monsters. I never expected any better of him. You, I thought, understood me a bit better than that, but as soon as he showed up you were just plain ashamed to be with me, so I guess you don't. A recent acquaintance of mine said I should tell you something. I can't remember exactly how he put it, but the gist of it is, the more I'm treated like a monster the more likely I am to act like one and the more I'm treated like a man the more likely I am to act like one. Anyway, pet, I want you to think about this. If I didn't do it for the reasons I just said, then why would I do it?"

"I don't know. Money? Prestige?"

"Money. When have you ever seen me worry about money as long as I had enough for blood, smokes and booze and that much I can hustle at a pool table or a card game, most of the time. Truth be told, if you would have let me, love, I could have got enough money for that album collection to keep you out of that grease-pit you work in for at least a year. There's no point having a bigger place or flasher gear, 'cos then its just an invite to others to come take it. I mean fine having something the size of the factory when you've got about twenty minions to patrol it and keep out unwelcome visitors, but it's no good when you're on your own. As to prestige, it's only wankers like Harris and Finn who don't realise who they're dealing with. I may have changed sides and I may get called a traitor to my kind behind my back, but there still aren't that many demons or whatever who'll willingly take me on face to face. That's all the rep I care about.

And here's another thought for you, if I had had any idea as to how soon those things were due to hatch and how dangerous they were, do you think I would have had you anywhere near them, let alone both of us asleep and bollock naked? However much I might have thought I'd enjoy sticking it in your ex's face… not that I even knew he was back in town.

Anyway, I'm getting ahead of myself, because as far as I knew at that point, someone was supposed to be collecting the eggs before they hatched and I was led to believe the incubation period was several times longer than it really was. So for all I knew, you and your friend had just signed yours, Dawn's and Tara's death warrants and there wasn't anything much I could do about it, except try and find out who's actually behind it all and stop them. So when I saw you I'd just gone back to see if I could find that wanker's business card, so that I could find out what the position was. Unfortunately it turned out that he's actually English, so at the minute I'm still waiting for a passport and stuff so I can go over there, and I'm still waiting to see if I'm going to be able to get rid of this chip so I can kick some butt, when I get there." He tried to watch Buffy's reaction to this bit of news, but in the dimly lit car interior, when he had to watch the road, he couldn't tell. "Other than that, there was a clause within the contract that was supposed to limit the risks that I could be asked to take. Basically, it's to avoid someone being able to force the person signing the contract into doing something suicidal. So, when I found out how dangerous those things were I had the contract declared void."

"Why didn't you tell me, if you thought we were in danger?"

"You wouldn't have believed me. As soon as the corn fed country boy called me Doctor, you didn't believe another word that came out of my mouth. As soon as he walked through that door everything he said was white and everything I said was black. Besides, if it was magic what could you do about it, and if it was physical you could cope with it anyway. As it was by the first night, I was pretty sure you were in the clear as long as you weren't with me."

"So why the sudden rush to get out of town?"

"Well, I figured that whoever had set this up, they want me dead, but they want it to look sort of like an accident. They seemed to want to discredit me. If you'd come round the next morning instead of being there at the time, and found whatever was left of me and all the empty eggs. You would just have called me a stupid twat and no more would have been said. Nothing I'd done for the last year would have mattered worth a damn to anybody but Dawn and you would all just say, oh he was bound to revert to type some day, and trust the incompetent bastard to cock it up.

I thought if they were going to try something else then it would take them a while to set it up. Seems like they got a bit impatient." He reached into his jeans pocket, pulling out the ring and tossing it to Buffy. "I took that off that Pavro last night."

She caught the ring and turned it so that she could see the device on it. "The Order of Taraka"

"Yep, which means they're not going to stop coming, and unless I get this chip out, when the one that finds me happens to be human, I'm dust."

"Where are we going, anyway?"

"Well, I originally thought Disneyland, but then I realised I was a bit short on gas money, so I guess it'll have to be Vegas." He smirked. "Don't suppose I can talk you into visiting one of the wedding chapels? It could be a dying man's last request."

"You're too late by more than a century."

"Can't blame me for trying. And now to save embarrassment and change the subject get my coat out the back and get the stuff out of the inside pocket."

Buffy reached over pulling out an envelope and a small box covered in rather worn gift-wrap.

"Leave the box for just now. You can take it with you when you go. The envelope's from Angel. He had some news he didn't think he should tell you over the phone, but he's just been too busy to make the trip in person. If you think that it wasn't right that he put it in a letter, then sorry that was my suggestion, but I didn't think it was right that I knew and you didn't and it wasn't my place to tell you either, so..."

Buffy held the envelope as if it were a poisonous snake. "Can't you just tell me what's in it?"

"I could, but I find I'm surprised to say, that I don't want to muck it up. I don't think it's bad news, not really once you get used to the idea. I would just put my big foot in it."

Buffy began to open the letter, and Spike pulled the car over to the edge of the road, so that he could devote his full attention to her. As she read the letter he could see her eyes well up, but also she wore a half-smile. When she had finished she looked across at Spike. "He's happy?" she asked in a subdued voice.

"Yeah, happier than I ever thought I'd see him. He even stops brooding for whole hours at a time, but it's going to be tough, the kid comes with some prophecy attached. He's goin' to have his work cut out lookin' after 'im."

"I always thought, that if one of us had a kid it would be with the other."

"I know, pet, but he chose a different road, and it's brought him happiness. I know you're sad for what might have been, but you love him, so it's got to be good that he's happy. I mean that's all any of us really want for the people we love." He held her face in his hands, and used his thumbs to stroke away the tears that had finally overflowed onto her cheeks. He wished they were in the de Soto with its single front seat where he could have just slid along and put his arms around her. Then he thought it was just as well that they weren't, because maybe that would just be too close and she would push him away. Her tears slowed and he softly released her face.

"You're right. I'm glad he's happy… or at least I will be." She took a few seconds to regain her composure, and then she gave him a determined smile

"Okay, so what's in the box? It's looking like it's in a fairly sorry state."

"Yeah, well, its been travelling around in my duster for a month and a bit, nearly two months now. It's your birthday present. I couldn't give it to you in front of anyone else, and I wasn't sure if you'd accept it anyway, and it's probably too old fashioned. I don't know. I spent too long where the only person I ever bought anything for was well… Dru and I don't think you'd like the sort of things she did. So I'm a bit out of practice, but I wanted you to have it in case, well in case it gets dusted."

"Can I open it now?"

"Well, yeah, it's not like I can say you've got to wait for the big day to open it."

She pulled the rather bedraggled wrapping paper off the outside, to reveal a pale blue box synonymous with one of the world's leading jewellery stores. "I took out a post office box and sent away for it from their catalogue."

"Spike, you can't-."

"Yes, Slayer, I can. I want you to have it."

She opened up the box. Inside was a white gold oval locket, about one and a half inches high and an inch across. The chain was quite thick, but made of thousands of small delicate links. The front of the locket was bare of any design, just a simple high gloss finish. She gently pulled it from the box and opened it, finding the two picture slots already filled. One side had a photograph of her mother, and the other side had one of Dawn. She turned it over in her hand and saw an inscription on the back in an elegantly flowing script. It said simply, "With love, W." 

"Anyway, it's engraved so no-one else'll want it and I refuse to take it back."

The tears from which she had only just recovered flooded back again, but this time they were tears of happiness. "It's beautiful… William." She leaned forward and kissed him gently on the lips. For a second or two, he was stunned and didn't respond and then ever so softly he kissed her back, nibbling at her lower lip before deepening the kiss and slowly exploring her mouth with his tongue. He lingered savouring the tender moment, only breaking away when his jeans began to feel uncomfortably tight. He could tell from her pulse and the way her skin was flushed that she was similarly aroused, but he knew that he had to play this very carefully. He wanted to be totally certain that Buffy would have no recriminations about anything they did at a later date.

He smirked, trying to dispel the sexual tension that had built up between them. "I take it that means I did better than last year."

"Well, duh, you never gave me anything last year." He took the necklace from her and she turned away from him so that he could put it on for her.

"That doesn't mean, I didn't buy you anything. I got this fancy box of chocolates, but then by the time I'd practised giving them to you and imagined you laughing at me or refusing to speak to me and I threw them round the room in a strop, they were, the worse for wear shall we say. Then when I went to the house I met Niblet before I got to the door and she pretty much convinced me it was best just not to go in, that the box was too mangled to give to anyone and chocolates were lame anyway." As he spoke he fastened the locket around her neck, both of them intensely aware when his fingertips brushed the nape of her neck, and when he brushed away her hair from underneath the chain. She turned back to face him and he couldn't resist planting a chaste kiss on her forehead.

"My sister didn't by any chance end up eating those chocolates, did she?"

"Only half of them." He smiled his lop-sided smile at her. He looked at the lightening sky. "I think we've just got time to share that thermos you brought with you before I have to curl up in the back." 

"Spike, aren't you worried about getting the chip taken out?" Buffy returned the conversation to a topic that had obviously been lingering in the back of her mind. She poured the hot chocolate into the cup that came with the flask, adding marshmallows before passing it to Spike for the first drink.

"Well, I can't say I haven't got a few nerves, but as long as the neurologist is okay about going ahead after he does the initial exam, I think the odds are in my favour."

"You're confident… you won't fall off the wagon?"

"Yeah, now I am." Spike explained about how when he thought the chip was broken, he'd tried to feed, and what Lorne had said to him about that. "See, pet, as long as I thought I was only doing it so that you could care about me, it was easy when you called me names to just act like a monster because it seemed like I would never be good enough for you no matter what I did. Once Lorne got me to realise that I wanted to change for me as well, then I knew if I slipped I'd be letting myself down.

And whatever happens, it's set up so that if things go wrong, you won't have to do with me what you did with Angel. If there's a problem, it'll be dealt with before I… I won't leave the city where I'm having the operation done."

"Spike, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying that if I can't control the bloodlust when I come out of the operation there will be someone there to stake me, or behead me, whatever, though I must admit I don't fancy being set on fire."

"Hey! Don't I get any say in this? What happens, do I just get a little message to say "He's Dust", or do I just not hear anything at all?"

"It's not going to come to that. It'll be fine. I just wanted to make sure that whatever happened you and Bit were safe."

"Spike, I can't let you do it alone. If anything went wrong and I lost you, I don't know what I'd do. I don't know if we can be together, but I don't want to think about you not being around somewhere."

"Shh, pet, I know you're worried because of what happened with your mum, and that's only natural, but blood-clots and things like that aren't going to slow me down. It'll all be fine and you've got things to do that have to come higher on your list of priorities than me. You've got to get back to look after Dawn."

Spike passed the cup back to Buffy and undoing his seat belt he climbed into the back seat of the car. He pulled a piece of paper from the pocket of his jeans, along with a couple of rumpled hundred dollar bills. "There's a shopping list, and that's the last of the cash I had on me. Do you have your bank stuff with you, cards, cheque book, whatever?" Buffy nodded. "Right, I'm going to get some kip. If we come to a mall or something that isn't all glass and has some nice dark parking area directly attached to it let me know and I'll give you a hand carrying the stuff, otherwise you're on your own. What I really need though is somewhere with Internet access… Bollocks! You stupid wanker! Buffy, does Willow have class this morning?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Right then, wake me up when it's a civilised time to ring her then." He pulled the blankets over his lower half, and his duster over his head. Buffy found it unnerved her that her normally lively companion looked like so much luggage. She scooted across and took the driver's seat. Checking her rear view mirror before pulling out she decided it was even more disconcerting when he was "gone".

* * * * *

It was quite a few hours later that the pair made preparations to part. Buffy had picked up all the things on Spike's shopping list, so that now he had all the necessary supplies for his trip. She had been rather shocked when Spike arranged for Willow to transfer a large sum of money into her bank account. That had started the argument.

"How much money did you just put into my bank account?"

"Enough to buy a decent car, that they should find it difficult to trace and keep me in blood, smokes, booze, petrol and hotel rooms and airline tickets for a few weeks."

"And you just happen to have that much sitting around in a bank account doing nothing?"

"Yeah, it's called an emergency fund. This seemed like an emergency."

"But you let me think you were destitute? You had loan sharks chasing you. Why didn't you tell me you had thousands of dollars sitting round in an account doing nothing?"

"One If I kept dipping into my capital for no reason I soon would be, and as I recall I told you to leave that grotty burger joint, that if you needed money I would get it for you. Two. Sharkey was after kittens not money. Three. I really didn't want to have the argument we're about to have."

"Where does it come from?"

If he hadn't been hidden underneath a heap of duster and blankets, he would probably just have raised an eyebrow and given her the look, as it was his slightly muffled and none too diplomatic response was, "Where the hell do you think it came from, you stupid bint?"

Comprehension finally dawned on the slayer. It was blood money. It was the cash, the jewellery, the valuables from over a century of victims. If she had but known, there was even rental income on the occasional property that he'd been lucky enough to find the deeds for, all handled through letting agents and a certain firm of London solicitors. In his day, Spike had taken great delight in preying on those belonging to the middle and upper classes. He had exacted vengeance for all the slights he had suffered during his time spent on the fringes of polite society. "Ewwh, and this was the money you offered me. You put this money in my bank account."

"No, I already told you, I would have sold off the albums if you'd have taken anything off me. I didn't expect you to take anything from there. And, yes, I put it in your bank account. Since I gave you all the cash I had on me, I can't go back to the crypt to get what I need to physically make a withdrawal and what I'd need is still a bit buried, I didn't really have any other options. And before your little brain starts working overtime about that necklace, you can ask Harris how much I've won off him playing pool lately and then multiply it by five or six to account for what I take off some of those snotty students with more money than sense. I know you wouldn't touch that money and I wouldn't give you a gift that had been bought with it, okay."

"I can't have this money sitting in my account."

"So go buy a car and cash a cheque for whatever is left over."

"It's not that simple."

"Yes, it is. You said you wanted to help. That's the help I need. If I have to hustle pool or play poker to make enough for somewhere to sleep tonight, then I'm hardly going to be making myself inconspicuous and in Vegas I've got as good a chance of ending up with nothing as something. If you start getting all conscientious and write a cheque out to some charity or other then you have to be prepared to accept the possible consequences."

"Why did you have to put me in this position?"

"Because I was all out of options, love." 

"So how do we sort out this car thing?" 

Finally, another car, considerably newer and more reliable but with far less character than the de Soto had been purchased. Its windows were painted out though the tinted glass helped to disguise this modification. Spike's hair had been temporarily dyed a shade of brown, which matched his eyebrows, but was considerably darker than his natural colour. His duster and the second cell-phone were safely stowed away in the SUV ready to be returned to Dawn. All the items from his shopping list had been put in the new car, and he had a considerable bundle of cash. He planned to spend the rest of the day in a motel room he'd rented then head off again a little after dusk moving from city to city until it was time to head to LA for his doctor's appointment.

All that remained was to say goodbye to Buffy.

"I'm sorry about the money, love."

"Not sorry enough to give it away."

"No, not that sorry. Every so often something like this'll happen and I prefer to have something to fall back on. Giving the money away now isn't going to bring back the people it came from, but I am sorry that it upset you. 

I'm not Angel, pet. I'm not lookin' to find redemption. I won't feed on people any more because I don't want to be responsible for making any more people grieve. It isn't to do with paying for past sins. There are way too many and it can't be done. I'm not going to beat myself up because I acted like what I am… I mean I'm happy with who I am now, but I know I can't undo what happened before, and if I start giving away the money it's like I'm pretending that I can. Can you understand that?"

"I think so, but I don't agree with it."

"I didn't expect you to, but as long as you understand, it's something. At least it's out in the open now, no more dirty secrets or none that I can remember." He smiled his lop-sided half smile at her.

"Here I want you to take these." He handed her the keys to the de Soto. "If I don't make it back be good to her. Maybe Bit might have her when she's old enough, but get someone to check her over before you do anything with her just in case she's been tampered with. The pink slip's in the crypt somewhere unless it's trashed."

Buffy nodded, as if a verbal response would give credence to the possibility of his death. She couldn't bear to believe that she might never see him again.

He produced another key. "It's sort of old-fashioned, but I'd like to write to you. I don't doubt they're capable of going through your mail box, but that's the key for the box I rented, if that's okay with you. I mean, if you haven't decided that you… if you still might be prepared to give things a chance." His sigh betrayed his frustration. "God, I'm arsing this up!"

She looked up into his face, the brown curls framing it so different, but all else familiar and as beautiful as one of the heavenly host. _"Whoever gave Angel his vampire name didn't know he'd eventually have to compare with Spike."_ She reached out and gently placed her hand on his lips, stilling any further outbursts.

"You're doing fine. Write to me. I want you to, but what I really want is for you to come back. Come back to me. Come back and we can start again." Her hand dropped to his shoulder and she stood on tiptoe to kiss him. It was a gentle kiss to begin with, but his arms drew her against his body and gentleness gave way to a desperate need. They clung together until Buffy had to pull back for air, but it wasn't desire that was chief amongst either of their emotions but sadness, knowing they might never get the second chance they had promised themselves.

"Tell Bit I love her." They stood forehead to forehead, her arms around his neck, his hands clasped at the small of her back. "…and I was supposed to see Clem at the end of the week. If you could let him know I had to change my plans, and he can have the kittens and the beer when I get back, but it's best if he stays away from the crypt.

Tell Anya I said I was sorry, and I wish I could be there for her. Glinda, well, tell her I said thanks, just for bein' her. And tell the old Watcher it might not have been too bad if I had been Randy, except that I'd never have forgiven him for the name. I don't know what to say to Red, but why don't you think of something really clever and tell her I said it. And tell Harris he must be one of the biggest idiots I ever met doin' that to her, but that I'm glad he's around to look out for you and the Bit. Only tell him no more Richards. Yech! Kinda cute, my arse!"

Tears gathered in both their eyes. "Don't I get a message?"

"Sure you do, but you're already wearing it round your neck, 'cos it's so important I had to make sure you couldn't forget. It's a message for Li'l Bit as well 'cos what it says on the back goes for the people in the pictures as well as the one I gave it to."

"It's almost time you were going. Here's that key. And that's something for you to read when you're somewhere that isn't here. Call it a down payment on your first letter."

He kissed her one last time and then took the hand that wasn't full of keys and notes and led her to the room door. "Remember, as long as I'm still walking this earth, I'll find a way to get back to you." Somehow neither of them could find the same comfort in the words that they might have done a day earlier. He watched from the shadow of the doorway until the SUV disappeared from view.

* * * * *

Buffy drove several miles back toward home before she stopped and opened the note written on the motel's notepaper.

Hello, love, this is just a little something that seemed appropriate. I hope you can understand it because it's the best part of a century older than me and worse than that it's written in Scots dialect, but it pretty much says what I want. 

As fair thou art, my bonie lass,

So deep in luve am I;

And I will luve thee still, my dear,

Till a' the seas gang dry.

Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,

And the rocks melt wi' the sun;

And I will luve thee still, my dear,

While the sands o' life shall run. [or in my case till the running sands are my ashes in the wind]

And fare-thee-weel, my only Luve!

And fare-thee-weel, a while!

And I will come again, my Luve,

Tho' 'twere ten thousand mile!

I love you.

William.

PS I skipped the first verse because it was just too twee.

Buffy waited for her vision to clear before she pulled back onto the road.

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End of Chapter 11

(The poem quoted above is A Red, Red Rose by Robert Burns, 1794)


	12. Chapter 12

**In the Name of Love**

By Tales of Spike

Spoilers: Story started just prior to As You Were and runs through to the end of Hells Bells. From there on the story goes AU, so Normal Again, Entropy etc haven't happened and won't. For purposes of Angel characters, assumed Cordelia and Groo still on holiday and Connor is still living with Angel at the Hyperion, just because it makes my life simpler.

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Disclaimer:

(Spike appears. He seems to be reading something. When he notices Buffy, he quickly hides it.)

__

Spike: Hello, pet. You know I was just thinking about the two of us.

__

Buffy: And? (Taps foot impatiently, hands on hips)

__

Spike: Well, I was wondering, was there a specific point where the sexual thing became inevitable, You know where it sort of changed from "I'm going to kill 'er but it's a pity 'cos she's not exactly a pain to look at," to "I want to shag that woman." Can you think of anything on your part?

__

Buffy: I still want to kill you.

__

Spike: Yeah, but you want to do other things more. See for me I think it was probably a combination of two things. I think obviously, the chip cut down dramatically on my homicidal tendencies. More than that though I reckon it was that show you put on that night in the Bronze.

__

Buffy: Big deal. We kissed. Get over it. Lots of people kiss each other without… "shaggin'," as you put it.

__

Spike: No, not the night after Red's little magical mass amnesia. The _other_ night at the Bronze. Way back, not that long after I got the chip. Round about the time you became all unpopular with the toy soldiers and they tried to bump you off, not that it stopped you seein' Mr Personality.

__

Buffy: Well, it may have been significant to you, but I don't even remember.

__

Spike: Always the innocent, eh pet? You'll be telling me next that Warren made the Buffy 'bot years ago and it was her not you. I mean, Slayer, (he gives her a knowing wink) how do you forget backing a man up against the wall and pinning him there. Hands all over him. All smellin' of yer mum's bubble bath. Talkin' dirty fit to give any man in earshot a hard-on for a week. 'Course it wasn't you…

__

Buffy: (indignant) I don't kno… (The penny drops, quieter) Oh, what did I say?

__

Spike: Still got amnesia, pet? Funny, you were a bit like that then as well. Walk off after you bump right into us as if you hadn't ever met me before, and then you were all, (puts on breathy, girlie voice) "You're a vampire?" as if you hadn't known for years, but I reckon it was all part of the act. The things you said. (Casts eyes heavenward as if to help remember and continues in an almost awed tone) "I could have anything. Anyone. Even you, Spike. I could ride you at a gallop until your legs buckled and your eyes rolled up…" Can we try that one sometime, Slayer? And that was just the start of your little speech."

__

Buffy: Look, this isn't funny. That wasn't me. It- it was someone. - (Stops, having managed to wind her up, Spike is having obvious difficulty not laughing) Really, it was Faith, in my body. She-

__

Spike: (Removes letter from pocket and tosses it to Buffy) I know, pet. I just wanted to see your reaction. I didn't think I'd met that Faith, turns out when she wrote back to me about that Joss bloke and him being the one who made us all up and owns us all and everything, that we had met after all.

__

Buffy: But you're saying, that you only got to where you wanted to sleep with me 'cos she got you all excited, so you'd still be trying to kill me if she hadn't…

__

Spike: Pfft! She might have emphasised some points I'd already managed to work out for myself, thank you very much, all about being the slayer mind, not about being Buffy. Thing was, maybe I didn't realise it at the time but the real point where I was totally and completely stuffed was round about when you were running round wiping your mouth and going, "Spike lips. Lips of Spike." Did you never notice for all my lightning reactions, I was way slower than you at making with the retching noises? 

__

Buffy: Oh! (Sort of sexy) That's all right then I suppose, but you better tell me about the rest of this speech. Wouldn't like to think I'd been making promises and not keeping them.

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Spike: (Spike raises a scarred eyebrow.) No, couldn't have that, could we love?

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Dedication: To Nos because he requested that little bit at the end of the chapter.

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A/N The little bit at the end of the chapter is totally gratuitous, has nothing to do with the plot and was just my way of cheering myself up after watching Entropy last night. If you don't like it (as I'm sure a few of you won't) then just ignore it, it doesn't affect the plot in the slightest. For the rest of you hope it cheers you up a bit as well. After entropy almost wanted to rewrite this since Buffy is such a bitch she just doesn't deserve our lovely Spike, but I decided that my Buffy is far nicer than TV Buffy so it's okay if she keeps him. 

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Feedback: I'd really like feedback, I get all insecure without it and start to think no one's reading this crap I produce, so bring it on at Sandy.Osborne@blueyonder.co.uk.

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Chapter 12

Spike waited impatiently. It seemed as if his whole existence hinged on the next hour or so. He was chain-smoking, giving a fair impersonation of a dry ice machine and the waiting room where he alternately sat and paced was starting to have a distinct atmosphere. It had been fifteen minutes since he'd left the consulting room where the visiting neurologist had taken x-rays of his head from different angles. He'd been primed to wait another three-quarters of an hour or so before there would be any news. If he'd been human there would have been cat-scans and all sorts of tests making the most of modern technology. Since he was a vampire, he was in an animal hospital, and he had his head x-rayed against lead plates that smelled strongly of disinfectant and to his acute senses slightly of animal urine. 

Waiting seemed to be all he had done for the last week. Days spent cooped up in hotels and motels. Nights on the road. Vegas to Salt Lake, Salt Lake to San Francisco, San Francisco to Portland, Portland to Seattle, Seattle to Eugene, Eugene to Reno and finally Reno to LA. Cheap motels to mid range hotels, but all were basically boxes where he was penned for the daylight hours. The one exception had been that inclement weather had allowed him some time to go "sight-seeing" in Seattle. Strange because he found himself along with not a few tourists, back in another graveyard. Like the rest of them he paid his respects at a pair of graves, father and son. Both had died young, on the verge of promising film careers. Bruce Lee and his son Brandon. As far as the Space Needle went he could take it or leave it. 

For Spike the week had been torture. It seemed as if his physical remoteness from Buffy made him think of her even more, and the task he faced seemed to stretch away indefinitely into the future, while the spectres of his past tried to catch up with him. All to be resolved before he could see her again. Spike had debated whether to ask Angel if he could hire enough people to defend the facility if it were attacked. He felt at his most vulnerable, that if he were to be traced, this doctor seemed to be the perfect way, at least if his pursuers had the least idea of his plans. Eventually he settled for making sure the doctor and himself were boarded separately and well away from the Hyperion. He also arranged for Lorne to do a reading on the doctor. Once Lorne had assured him that the doctor was on the level, he'd dispensed with the idea of body guards at least for the initial consultation.

The minute hand on the waiting room clock finally crawled through another two hundred and seventy degrees and the doctor emerged from the treatment area, to beckon Spike back into the consulting room. He placed the x-ray plates in front of the wall mounted light-box in the treatment room. Spike got a feeling that this wasn't going to be as simple as he'd hoped.

"I've had a look at the x-rays here. As you can see the chip appears to be closest to the surface of the skull where the original skull section was made. If you decide to proceed, I will try to follow the original cutting lines, although really they should be healed up by now. The problem lies in the way that your brain has adjusted to the chip's presence. You have developed neural pathways which connect between the chip and the rest of your brain. To gain access to the area where the chip is, and to remove the chip those pathways will have to be cut. This could result in some unpredictable side effects; your impulse control might be affected, you may suffer memory lapses or be unable to distinguish between memories and dreams. This damage may heal correctly on its own over a matter of days once the chip is removed, or the pathways may not regrow or may regrow incorrectly. In addition there may be complications due to swelling of the tissue around the area we're operating on.

It's my professional opinion that given the quality of life you seem to be capable of at present, I wouldn't recommend surgery unless it were to become necessary due to deterioration of the chip." 

"So, Doc, what sort of odds are we talking about here?"

"Better than even, say thirty: seventy, but that's still nearly a one in three chance that you'll suffer some sort of permanent ill effect. I really have to advise you against going ahead."

"I hear what you're saying, but doing nothing isn't an option. What's the worst we can expect?"

"I have to say that this is all speculation. I don't know the extent to which vampires can repair brain tissue and if we assume that vampirism is a form of demonification, then does the "human" brain control the demon? I don't have a clue what is happening inside our skulls when we decide to vamp out, or when the demon tries to respond to outside stimuli and we rein it in. There's a good chance you won't suffer any effects at all, or you might vamp out and not be able to come back. There's even a chance it may make it easier to control the demon. As I've already said you may have memory lapses. If these are sufficient to affect your self-image this again could affect your control of the demon not to mention the potential for disorientation. You may not be capable of looking after yourself. You might think you've fed when you haven't. You could do things which would endanger yourself without realising. You could as I said become confused between dreams and reality, so that you would expect those around you to react the same way they do in your dreams or your nightmares.

You could experience all or none of this, and it could all be temporary and repair itself or you could be like that for the rest of your existence. My guess would be that in all likelihood you will experience at least some mild temporary effects of some sort. The chip's embedded deep into your cerebral cortex. If you go ahead with the procedure I'd have to advise that you be physically restrained for a period afterward until we can confirm that you're totally lucid, and it's probably a good idea if you have constant care, someone who can ground you if you are delusional or if you do have memory lapses."

Of course Spike immediately thought of Buffy, but he ruled her out equally quickly because she had to look after Dawn. He considered Tara. She was strong and gentle, a natural carer and he was genuinely fond of her. This was part of the problem, though. Out of Buffy's circle of friends Tara was possibly nicest to him, but he didn't know how much of this was because he'd already been chipped and well on his way to being Buffy's pet when she first met him. He knew that she must have heard about his past exploits from the others, but she'd never come face to face with the demon within. He knew he didn't want her to. Under the circumstances she would probably understand, but he didn't want to risk any change in their relationship. Giles was quickly discarded, partly because of logistics but mostly because of his council ties. Angel was too obvious a connection and had Connor to consider. Lorne… Lorne.

"How long a period are we talking about?"

"I'd say around a week, give or take, if you stay symptom free for seventy two hours then I think that's probably a fair sign of recovery."

"Fair, but not conclusive." Spike gave a half smile at the Doctor's nod. "So, say I come out of this a raving basket case and I don't improve within the first week, how long before we know it's a lost cause?"

"That would vary depending on your age and bloodline…"

In view of his present situation Spike decided it was best to remain as anonymous as possible, barring the chip of course but then he couldn't be the only one they had done. "Take a guess."

"Three weeks. If there was no sign of improvement after three weeks I think it would be unlikely, but it's possible it could take as long as a few months to fully recover."

"How soon could we go ahead?"

* * * * *

It had been arranged after some calls backwards and forwards that the procedure would go ahead the following night. The equipment had all been found already, and Lorne had agreed to "baby-sit" someone slightly larger than normal. In return Spike would cover the bulk of the costs for having Caritas refitted. If all went well Spike would become a silent minority partner in the business. He thought it was one use of some of the money Buffy couldn't complain about. After all didn't Lorne's gift come from the Powers? So getting the bar up and running helped them. Even if Lorne made no distinction between the motives of his clients before he set them on their path. Spike had managed to rent an isolated property about fifteen miles outside of LA so that no neighbours would hear any noise and making it difficult for any assassins to trace him. This was where he planned to recuperate. The operation was to be carried out in the basement of the property, and the doctor had agreed to travel blindfold so that he wouldn't know the location of the house.

All the necessary preparations were in place and once again he waited.

* * * * *

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Day 1

Lorne watched the figure chained spread-eagle and face downward on the bed. It had been an hour since the doctor had left and already Spike was showing the first signs of returning to consciousness. He stirred in his sleep, pulling against the chains Angel had assured him would be strong enough to hold an enraged vampire. He was in game face, but the doctor had warned Lorne to expect this the first few times he awoke; that the pain caused by the operation would provoke an automatic feeding response. 

Lorne went upstairs to the kitchen, taking one of the half dozen bags of human blood they had managed to procure, he emptied its contents into a mug and put it in the microwave. When it was warmed he added a straw, stirred in some powdered painkillers the doctor had supplied and carried it back to the basement. The smell seemed to have wakened Spike. He pulled at his chains and twisted his body trying to see where the smell was coming from. Lorne walked round to stand at the top of the bed and held the mug so that the straw poked through the bars of the iron bedstead next to the patient's pillow.

Spike's mouth found the straw and sucked hungrily at it. He was a quarter of the way down the mug when he noticed that the blood had been tampered with, but his body and his demon demanded that he finish every drop of the rich sustaining liquid. Minutes after the mug was empty his body returned to a healing sleep and as the painkillers took effect his face relaxed into human form. This cycle was repeated several times over the first day, except that after the second bag Lorne mixed in an increasing amount of pig's blood into each mug. 

Spike never gave any indication of having recognised Lorne. In fact he never gave any indication that he was aware of anything except the blood.

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Day 2

The first half of the second day followed much the same pattern as the first, but gradually Lorne noticed that he was spending less time in demon form indicating that the pain had abated slightly. Unfortunately, he still didn't seem to recognise Lorne, and he stopped drinking. He offered no violence. In fact Lorne still doubted that he was aware that he was there, but whenever the cup was placed next to him, he would turn his head away. When first he refused to feed, he seemed quite calm, although he had yet to regain consciousness in human form. Successive attempts to feed him resulted in him becoming more agitated then finally when his behaviour had become almost feral he fed again.

__

'… Don't drink it. It's drugged… I'm a lab rat… They starve you… You drink… you're gone… they do experiments…Spike could tell from the pain in his head that the experiments had already begun, but he could smell the drugs in the blood and he wouldn't give them the satisfaction. Not as long as he was in control of his body…

… Hungry… need blood… blood will ease the pain… drugged…you drink… you're gone… hungry… pain…you drink… experiments…

… Need blood… hungry… blood… blood to ease the pain…'

Lorne decided to ring Angel, even though it had been agreed that contact between the house and the office be kept to a minimum.

"Angel-cakes, we got a problem, our boy won't drink his medicine, at least not till he's starving."

"You've got him on a mix, haven't you?"

"Yeah, about two to one."

"Try giving him the straight good stuff again. If that works try the mix again but without the meds. If he'll drink it without the meds in it he'll still keep healing, he'll just be in pain while he does it."

__

Day 3

Lorne followed Angel's advice and found that his patient responded by drinking again. As long as the blood wasn't drugged he drank it, even when Lorne ran out of human blood to mix in with the pig's blood. For the first time since the operation Spike spoke. Lorne had been grabbing an hour or two's sleep when he was woken by Spike's voice, which was gradually increasing in decibels.

"Dru? Kitten? Where are you, pet? Dru! It's time to let your boy loose now!"

"Spike. It's Lorne." The green demon walked round to the top end of the bed so that Spike would be able to see him.

Spike watched him as he came into view. "Dru, come on. If you let me out of these, then I'll use them on you if you want, we can make them nice and tight. You know you like it better when you're the one tied up." Spike's pleading tone changed to an almost inaudible mutter. "Don't know who's more nuts, her or me for letting someone with the attention span of a fruit fly chain me up." Finally, in desperation Spike tried forcefulness. "Dru! If you don't get your boney ass over here now and undo these chains you are never going to get to play with them again, and when I get out of them I'm going to take Miss Edith away."

"Spike, Listen. Dru isn't here. You haven't seen Dru since she visited you in Sunnydale. It's Lorne. Remember, Lorne."

For the first time, Spike's eyes seemed to focus on Lorne's face. "Jesus, Lorne…" Spike seemed to pause and look around his surroundings. "I thought you were Dru there for a minute. I don't suppose you're going to let me out of these things either?" 

Lorne shook his head. "Not just yet, at any rate. I can get you some more blood if you want it."

"Ta, mate. I don't suppose we've got some bourbon as well. I feel like I've got a killer hangover that's in need of the hair of the dog."

"No bourbon, but I do happen to have all the makings of a killer sea-breeze… though I'm not sure you should be drinking alcohol yet."

"Line of Aurelius… some of the fastest healing sons of bitches in the vampire world. And, yeah, I'll try one, but if you ever mention it in front of anybody I'll deny ever havin' touched such a poofy soundin' concoction." Spike treated Lorne to a trademark smirk. "How long was I out of it anyway?"

* * * * *

The figure strode towards the crypt, holding a stake, eager to finish the job in hand. The sooner it was done, the sooner he could be out of town and he wanted to be out of town before he ran into the slayer. He would have preferred the cover of darkness, but he'd been able to find out that Buffy was working an early shift today, and there was a better chance of catching his prey at home during the day. Buffy may have said she didn't want him dead, but she'd be better off if he was. Besides he'd promised him a year ago that if he ever laid a finger on Buffy, he would come back and stake him for real, and his dad had always told him that if a man makes a promise, he should keep it. It meant he could close off the file on "The Doctor" once and for all.

Just as he had two weeks previously, he marched up to the door of the crypt and slammed the door back on its hinges. When the door reached the point where it was at right angles to the wall it hit the trip on the bomb planted by one of the Tarakans. The shaped charge had been designed to take out whoever opened the door. It performed its job efficiently with just a little overkill. Riley Finn was identified by the dog-tag attached to one of his two smoking boots.

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End of Chapter 12


	13. Chapter 13

**In the Name of Love**

By Tales of Spike

Spoilers: Story started just prior to As You Were and runs through to the end of Hells Bells. From there on the story goes AU, so Normal Again, Entropy etc haven't happened and won't. For purposes of Angel characters, assumed Cordelia and Groo still on holiday and Connor is still living with Angel at the Hyperion, just because it makes my life simpler.

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Disclaimer: I own nothing. 

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A/N: This chapter's a bit quiet, but there should be more happening in the next one. 

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Feedback: I'd really like feedback, I get all insecure without it and start to think no one's reading this crap I produce, so bring it on at Sandy.Osborne@blueyonder.co.uk.

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Chapter 13

Buffy was surprised to find that Willow and Dawn were still up when she got back home.

"Isn't it way past someone's bedtime?" she said to Dawn, but her tone was light rather than stern.

"Yeah, like the amount you would say over the phone was going to put my mind to rest enough for me to sleep!"

"Dawn said Spike was in some sort of trouble. Is he going to be okay?" Willow's question was asked quietly.

Buffy gave a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "He's done alright for the last hundred and forty some years. I'm sure he'll get through." She passed the duster to Dawn. "The phone's back in the pocket. I think I heard your first message come through a couple of hours back."

Dawn busied herself finding the phone and checking. ""Back on the road again. Miss you both." Aww. Does this mean you actually gave him permission to be nice to you in public, or that he just doesn't care if you kick his ass when he gets back?"

"A bit of both, I suppose."

"Go on. I think I deserve more information." Dawn gave her sister a metaphorical push.

Willow, sensing that there was more to this conversation than she knew, started heading toward the door. "I'll just… em… sleepy now." She pointed upwards.

"Wait, Willow, I think it's probably easier to do this once rather than twice." She took a deep breath. "Spike's probably going to be away for some time. He's in some pretty serious trouble and it could take a while to sort it out. We've agreed that when he does get back, we're going to try dating."

"Congratulations." Willow watched her friend who in turn was watching her own reaction. "This is a congratulations type thing, isn't it?"

"Yeah." Buffy replied contemplatively. "I think it is."

"Took you long enough to work it out, though." Replied Dawn with all the tact you can expect from a little sister.

"Any word from Anya or Xander? I think we need a Scooby meeting about what's happening, say over here tomorrow night. In the mean time, Dawn, don't wear the coat outside the house and no one go near his crypt or his car. I'll explain why tomorrow, or should I say, later today. Which reminds me. Bedtime. Go. It's hard enough getting you out in time for school when you have had enough sleep."

Dawn moved for the stairs, knowing she'd get no further information from Buffy that night. Buffy fell in next to Willow as she too headed upstairs. "Hey, Will, I know I've sort of sprung it on you with no warning, but you're okay about Spike and me, right?"

"If you are? Everybody's known for ages how he feels about you. And he's been really good with the patrolling and looking after Dawn and everything even when you weren't here. I mean, when we thought the 'bot was you I thought you'd gone insane, but now I think he might really have changed. But you're probably in the best position to judge, so if it's okay with you, then it's fine by me." She treated Buffy to a Willow grin. "I guess you're not so over the bad-boy thing as you thought."

* * * * *

As Buffy had suspected, neither Anya nor Xander were available for the meeting that evening, so she stuck to bringing everyone up to date as to what was happening.

"Isn't there anything we can do to help. Some research or something?" Willow asked.

"Not that I can think of. Maybe I should have asked Spike how you actually hire the Order of Taraka. If they use a web address or something maybe you could have hacked their system, but I think Spike's probably already planning on using the easiest means to trace them. It's just a race between him finding the person who put up the contract, and the Tarakans getting him."

"I seem to recall Giles and Angel were both power freaked when Spike set them on you. How good a chance do you think he's got?"

"It's hard to say. Spike's no schoolgirl, but the chip makes him vulnerable to any human. Tara could beat him to a pulp if she wanted to, not that she would, but as long as he keeps moving around he should be okay, right? Someone would have to have something of his to do a location spell, wouldn't they?" Suddenly, Buffy remembered that his crypt was unguarded and full of his things. "… but then I suppose it wouldn't be hard to get something. I guess we've just got to hope they haven't got anyone who can do that over a large enough range. I don't know…" Buffy shrugged. "If anybody could do it it'll be him…"

Later, when Buffy went through to the kitchen for coffees, Tara followed her through. "So, you came to a decision about him then?"

"I guess so, sort of anyway."

"And you're happy with what you've decided?"

"Ask me that a year or two from now. I don't know whether things'll work out between us. I think he loves me more than Riley did, or even Angel. I know he won't quit on me and the chemistry between us is unbelievable… I just don't know if I can ever love him… I owe it to both of us to find out, but it's so hard to work him out. Sometimes he seems to see right through me, to understand me better than I do myself. Ten minutes later he does something or says something just totally wrong."

"I think that just goes with the territory…"

"Dating a vampire?"

"Dating a male… of course I'm basing this on second hand experience, but that's what I heard they're like…"

"Well, duh, but our undead blonde is the most extreme case I've come across so far." Buffy reached up to her neck and undid the clasp on the locket, passing it to Tara for her to have a look at.

"Even just buying a present he gets it so totally right but totally wrong at the same time." She pulled some mugs from the cupboard. "Isn't that the most beautiful thing, the most thoughtful gift you've ever seen? But it's just way too much." 

Tara raised an eyebrow in her direction. Buffy wondered how the same gesture on two different people could have such diverse meanings, or rather how Spike managed to make the gesture mean so many things. "You were wearing it."

"Well, I couldn't refuse it under the circumstances, but it was supposed to be my birthday present. Don't you think it's a bit over the top for a simple birthday gift from a… whatever we were meant to be."

"From a man who's totally in love with you and practically worships the ground you walk on, yeah, it's way to much." Tara's smile had gone up a notch and Buffy couldn't work out how she managed to look so wicked and innocent all at the same time. "I just can't wait to see what he gets you next year if you're officially seeing each other. Okay, so you wouldn't have felt comfortable if he'd given you that in the middle of a room full of people, but he didn't did he?"

"No, he just kept making lewd innuendoes on the off-chance I'd be so overcome by them that I'd drag him off somewhere to "shag" like bunnies." She gave a sigh of exasperation before her voice softened. "He spends the whole night convincing you that he's just a testosterone bomb on legs and all the while he's walking around with this in his coat pocket waiting for the right moment. How do you deal with someone like that?" Buffy replaced the necklace around her neck.

"Same way you deal with anybody else. Take it one day at a time. One thing for sure, you won't be bored." 

"No, not bored."

* * * * *

Next day, Buffy paid her first visit to the post office box. As she had expected there was a letter waiting for her. She rushed back to work, hoping to get a chance to read it before the end of her lunch-break; otherwise it would be a long wait as she was on a double shift again. It seemed that circumstances were conspiring against her however, and she barely had time to change back into her uniform before she was due back on the counter. It was well into her second shift before she sat down alone at the staff room table to read his first epistle.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Hello love,

You wouldn't believe how much I'm regretting coming up with this stupid idea. It seemed to be a great plan, but now I'm stuck with trying to think what I should actually write about, and it's not like you can write back to tell me what it is you'd like to know. I guess I'm going to have to wing it.

I'm still where you left me. You've been gone about a quarter of an hour now, and part of me really didn't want to let you go. I couldn't help but stand in the doorway watching until you were out of sight. I think this whole thing has got me as scared as I've ever been since I was human. But, it's not the idea of dying that scares me. It's the idea of not seeing you and the Bit and some of the others again. So, that means it's good, doesn't it? It's more reason to fight. 

Okay, I'm running out of things to say, other than the obvious, but then I can't fill a whole letter with the same three words. I suppose I should try to tell you stuff that you don't already know about me, so how's this for a start. I told you once about what used to be the two best nights of my life, and you have first hand experience of the rest of my best nights. One was our first night together, though I admit I didn't manage to express myself very well and I helped ruin the morning after. Sorry, love. Another was when I saw you walk down the stairs and realised it wasn't the 'bot. Finally, I'd have to say, right up to the point where your ex showed his face, our last night together seemed pretty special, at least to me. I don't know if you realise what my best day was.

Surprise, surprise, you were involved, although it wasn't because it was you that made it so special at the time. It could have been any gorgeous sexy young thing and the effect at the time would have been the same. I'm glad it was you, but at the time, that wasn't the point. Anyway I can just imagine you reading this and telling me to get to the point, so I will. The best day of my life was the day that I proposed to you. It wasn't real, and even then we had quite a few issues (which I think are pretty much resolved now?) but for a few hours I was in love with an incredible woman who loved me back. How's that for embarrassing myself. Hope that doesn't come across as totally pathetic, but the point is this; what we had that day wasn't real, but the way I feel about you is. I just hope that in time we can have lots of days like that but for real this time. 

That should be enough to keep you amused for a day at least. I'm sure I'll think of something just as embarrassing to tell you tomorrow. At this rate, I won't be able to look you in the eye when I do get home because you'll know all my deepest darkest secrets. Good thing the Big Bad is undead like me, because I think I just put a good few nails in his coffin.

I love you.

Spike. 

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

On Thursday morning Buffy made sure she left early for work so that she had time to call in at the post office on her way. She read the letter as she walked the remaining distance to work, almost managing to get run over at a crosswalk. Despite his promise this one had no major revelations in it, but all the same she found that the letter seemed to show a gentler, more considered side to Spike's nature. He also reminded her to speak to Clem, so when she left work that night she swung past Spike's "local" and watched a couple of hands of kitten poker.

Friday's letter came from San Francisco, and came complete with a couple of anecdotes about the times that he had spent there in the sixties. Buffy tried to imagine Spike with long hair and psychedelic clothes and failed miserably. She'd have to ask him if he had any photographs when he got back. On Friday night as promised Buffy went to the Bronze with Tara and Dawn, skipping patrol for the night. That was why she remained unaware of her ex-lover's demise, all evidence having been removed by the following morning.

Saturday's letter was from Portland wondered if he had some sort of planned route, or whether he was just playing spin the bottle each day to decide where he would go. Monday brought two letters, or to be more precise one package and one letter. The package had the earlier postmark, and when she opened it she found a videocassette along with a note. 

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Hello love,

Got out of my hotel room today long enough to pay my respects to this guy and his dad. I sent the video just to encourage any predilection you might have for sexy dead guys in black leather (I can live in hope). Of course, its also one of the most romantic love stories I can remember, just slightly twisted, definitely unconventional but a love story nevertheless, and it even has a happy ending. Maybe there's hope for us yet.

I love you

I miss you

Spike. 

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

That night she and Dawn watched the tape he had sent. She even cried when she watched it. She had to agree that "The Crow" was everything he'd said it was, even if he did leave out all the violence and scenes about drug use that made her wonder whether her mom would have let Dawn watch it. Monday's second letter was from Eugene and was fairly brief. As was his letter from Reno which she received on Tuesday. On Tuesday night Dawn's phone message came through earlier than normal. Buffy was surprised at how much she was upset by the letter she received on Wednesday. 

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Hello love,

I've got some real news for you today. I've finally seen the doctor who is going to do the operation to remove the chip. He spent a long time explaining things and going into detail, but it boils down to the fact that removing the chip is probably going to cause some sort of brain damage. It's then up to that evil soulless demon you're so fond of to make sure that I heal up okay from it. See, it has its uses, of course, if I was human I wouldn't have the chip in the first place, but hey.

Suffice to say, the doctor doesn't know how long it'll be before I'm myself again, so after tomorrow, Tuesday, I won't be sending any more messages to Niblet for a while and I think with all the preparations that are going to be happening this will be my last letter. I won't be alone. That recent acquaintance I mentioned the other day will be playing nursemaid. I think you'd like him, he's quite a character. The plan is that I'm going to be chained up for a while after the operation, so if you get a letter that's not in my handwriting don't worry I probably dictated it to him, but it could be a few weeks before you hear anything. We don't know how long I'll be out of it for, and the poor guy is likely to be stuck with me twenty-four seven, so anything either of us write probably won't get posted until I'm ready to leave for my next stop.

Here's hoping I still remember you when I come to. (Joke).

I'll be in touch as soon as I can

I love you

Spike

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

The last letter was postmarked Los Angeles, and Buffy was tempted to get on the phone to Angel and see exactly what was going on. She knew he had to be mixed up in this somewhere, but she didn't want to do anything that would attract attention. She was also unsure as to how she could explain to Angel about her interest in his grandchild. Not to mention, there was a world of difference between sending a greeting card to congratulate Angel on his good fortune and actually speaking to the new father. So she waited, and more often than not over the next couple of weeks, she found herself sharing Dawn's bed. The coat spread out over both of them, so that they slept amidst he comforting scents of cigarette smoke, old leather, bourbon and him.

It was just over two weeks later when Dawn found her sitting on the stairs with a bundle of envelopes at her feet laughing till tears streamed down her face.

"Okay, I guess the fact the mail has started again is a good sign, but I doubt anything Spike has to say is that funny!"

"But it is. It's priceless. He's trying to avoid an assassin cult. He undergoes life-changing surgery that could have left him a vegetable, and what's the first letter he writes when he gets the chance. A page long tirade using all his English swear words about how the doctor shaved a patch on the back of his head. I think the doctor's lucky he got away while he was still under the anaesthetic. Apparently he's been trying to measure it to see how bad it is because he can't use a mirror."

"Let me see." Dawn grabbed the letter from her sister's hand. Soon she was also laughing and crying, partly at the contents of the letter, but mostly in relief that Spike had come through the surgery, and was obviously still himself.

****

End of Chapter 13


	14. Chapter 14

**In the Name of Love**

By Tales of Spike

Spoilers: Story started just prior to As You Were and runs through to the end of Hells Bells. From there on the story goes AU, so Normal Again, Entropy etc. haven't happened and won't. For purposes of Angel characters, it's assumed Cordelia and Groo are still on holiday and Connor is still living with Angel at the Hyperion, just because it makes my life simpler.

****

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Joss and his friends own everything and everyone.

****

A/N: Another fairly short chapter, but it seemed like a good place to stop, and it's our turn to finally get to see Seeing Red so I wanted to be finished early. 

****

Feedback: I'd really like feedback, I get all insecure without it and start to think no one's reading this crap I produce, so bring it on at Sandy.Osborne@blueyonder.co.uk.

****

Chapter 14

Spike was sure the Watcher was trying to hit every pothole possible and while the coffin he'd chosen was comfortably padded, it didn't actually help much when the whole thing was sliding from side to side in the back of… whatever he was in the back of. Suddenly Spike had a vision of Giles driving through central London in a car not unlike his old Citroen with a coffin loosely strapped to the roof rack. _'Not even Giles, I hope.'_ But then Giles was a man with a past, and he could be ruthless when it was called for, if he thought someone might have taken advantage of his charge, for example.

Spike tried to remember exactly what information he had given the other Englishman when he originally asked for his help. More to the point, what might he have heard from Willow or the other Scoobies? It would be just Spike's luck to be in the middle of a transatlantic flight when Xander finally realised why Spike had been doing "nude push-ups" and the bricklayer would waste no time informing the Watcher. Just because he'd finally got Buffy to agree to make a fresh start with everything out in the open, didn't mean that the rest of the group were okay with it, (if they knew).

He pressed a button to illuminate the dial on his watch. It was fifteen minutes since he'd thought he'd been transferred from the plane to his latest mode of transport. Surely, if he'd wanted the Watcher could have found somewhere quiet to pull in and let him out by now. Instead of which he seemed to be taking up rally driving, causing Spike to rattle around in his ever so slightly claustrophobic padded cell.

He decided he was going to just have to make the best of it at least until they stopped moving.

Giles cast another glance in his rear view mirror. He'd changed lanes three times and taken several unnecessary turnings but the white van with tinted windows was still following, hanging back far enough that they could duplicate any sudden manoeuvres Giles made.

Finally, Giles found himself first in line at the traffic lights. Just as they were about to change he slammed the van into gear, cut through the filter lane and swung across in front of the oncoming traffic taking the right hand turn with a second to spare. The white van was still boxed in several cars back and its occupants were unable to see Giles next sharp turn. Once he was sure the van wouldn't be easily spotted he moved round to climb in through the rear doors. He unscrewed the brass plated wing nut fastenings on the coffin and finally released a slightly battered vampire.

"Bloody hell, Watcher, you could have taken it a bit easier on the bends."

"Come on, someone's been following us since the airport. I think there's an underground station a couple of blocks that way. The van's hired so if we leave it unlocked, it's a pretty fair bet to report it stolen."

Spike paused to rip open the cardboard box that was used to transport his "personal effects" pulling out a black duffle bag. He rummaged around until he found his lighter and a pack of cigarettes. Lighting one, he said to Giles, "I guess that means that flying out of Reno instead of LA didn't help."

Giles, looked the vampire up and down. "That's a new look for you." Spikes hair had been cut shorter, both on top and at the sides, to blend in the partly regrown shaved section. Lorne had touched up the mid brown hair dye to cover both where it had washed out and the root growth. Most startlingly, as a concession to his mode of transport he was actually wearing a suit. It was a black suit, with a black shirt and a deep bluish violet tie, but it was a suit. Instead of his normal boots he wore a pair of black dress shoes, and Giles was sure that whilst he couldn't place it there was something different about his face.

"Just in case customs at either end decided to open things up and have a look… and it's the eyebrow. It's called make-up." The distinctive double scar through Spike's eyebrow had indeed been disguised, or at least made far less noticeable.

The pair made their way via the underground to the area of London where the lawyer who had visited Spike had his office. They found a couple of hotel rooms since Giles thought it was unlikely that he would manage to get a train home by the time they finished their discussion. They did make a slight detour on the way to call at an off-licence and pick up a bottle of good scotch.

Soon the pair were safely ensconced in Spike's room with a generous glass of whisky each and their respective ties loosened off.

"You're paying all the charges for that van, by the way," said Giles.

"Never expected anything else."

"How much money have you got in those accounts you sent me details of anyway?"

"Enough to clear all their debts, put both of them through college, pay for a couple of weddings and have plenty left over… not that they would accept it if they thought it came from me." Spike raised an eyebrow in Giles' direction. "If something does happen to me, you'll see it all goes to her and Dawn, won't you?"

"I'll make sure they get it."

"Good. So, did you manage to get that information I asked you about?"

"Yes, I did, though I don't know where you think it's going to get you." Giles pulled a piece of paper with a name and address from his jacket pocket. 

"If anyone outside that firm of lawyers knows who bought that contract, then it'll be her, and if anyone can convince her to talk, it'll be me. There's no point breaking and entering if I can find out what I want with a couple of questions."

"And then what?"

"Then I see if it was sold on again, until I find out who had it last."

"And…"

"And I make sure that whoever it is, isn't going to be making any payments to any assassins."

"I feel I should tell you that I can't condone murder."

"Oh, this isn't going to be murder. When someone comes after me the way they did, it's suicide." Spike's eyes were deep blue, so dark as to be almost black. "No-one uses the people I care about to get to me and gets away with it."

"Haven't you used that as a means of persuasion yourself in the past?"

"I can't say I haven't. Let's just say I plan to provide an object lesson for anyone else who wants to try threatening my girls." Spike reached in his bag and withdrew several objects of the type that gave him his name.

He looked across at Giles. "If Riley Finn hadn't turned up when he did, I would be dead, so would Buffy and Bit would be left on her own. That's why when I find out who's behind this, it's going to get messy and if you tell me you would do any less to someone who would hurt them, then you're not the man I think you are."

* * * * *

An hour later attired in a rather more casual manner than before, Spike was checking out the lawyers' offices. Even at half past eleven at night there still appeared to be people working. A security guard was seated at a desk in the main foyer where he could see everyone entering or leaving the building. Nevertheless, Spike noticed that every so often someone would come out onto the fire escape at the back of the building, smoke a cigarette or two, and then go back in. You just have to love these no-smoking buildings.

Spike kept watch on the building for another couple of hours, noting that almost all the staff left by twelve-thirty, and after they had gone the security guard was joined by a colleague who had evidently been patrolling the building earlier. The two talked while they drank coffee from plastic cups that the second guard had brought with him and when they finished the first guard left to do his rounds of the building and the second guard took over at the front desk.

Spike suspected that the smokers had probably temporarily disabled the alarm, which should have sounded when the back doors to the offices were opened, or the alarm system was not switched on until all the legal staff had left. Either way Spike could make it work for him.

* * * * *

The next day was dull and forecast to remain overcast and wet. This let Spike indulge himself and he toured the shops of Camden and Carnaby Street. He deliberately avoided buying another coat similar to his duster, but he did get a leather jacket cut like a blazer and another pair of New Rocks. He bought a couple of shirts and a couple of pairs of black jeans. To top off the purchases he bought some black hooded tops. Then because he couldn't resist the idea he bought a little mini-kilt, some hooped black and red tights, a black T-shirt with Union Jack print and some knee-high DM's, all in Dawn's size. The kid would just look so cute all in punk gear, even if she made him wait till next Halloween before she'd wear it.

Before he headed back to the area where he was staying he called into a florist and left with a large bouquet of pink and white roses. He headed back to the hotel to get changed. He was almost ready to leave when there was a knock at his door, immediately followed by Giles' voice.

"Spike?"

Spike opened the door. "You gave me a bit of a scare there, Watcher. I thought you'd headed off home."

"Well, I went home and picked up my car, reported the van stolen and so forth, but I decided it might be better if I was more readily available if you were in need of assistance. Anyway, I've arranged to stay in town at a friend's while you're here. If you need to get hold of me, this is the number. I must say, it doesn't look as if you're planning on doing anything larcenous tonight. In fact, appearances would seem to indicate that you're going on a date."

"Sort of, hopefully, except the only thing I'm trying to score is information. You on the other hand…" Spike looked pointedly at the name Olivia, which was written above the phone number Giles had just given him. "Here, you take these, I'll pick up some more on my way." He passed the bouquet to Giles as he left the room. As he walked down the corridor ahead of Giles, back towards the hotel reception he couldn't resist a jibe. "Old guy like you probably needs things like that more than I do anyway." 

"I say…"

After a tube journey, a visit to an off-licence and a visit to another florist Spike arrived at his intended destination for the evening. The apartment block was rather plush and though he was out of touch with London property values he knew that something like this would run well into six figures. Either her family had money, or Giles was making a lot more than he let on. Given Buffy's financial difficulties he suspected the former. He wondered if his little plan was going to work as well as he hoped, but decided to brazen it out. He'd timed his arrival for seven-thirty, reasoning that if she had a date, she hopefully wouldn't be getting picked up until at least eight, but by seven-thirty she should definitely be back from work. 

He pressed the button for the intercom through to her flat. "Delivery for Miss Macallister." He lowered his head slightly so that the video camera above the door wouldn't show a clear picture of his face. He needn't have bothered. A buzzer sounded and when he pushed the outer door he found it open. He made his way up to the third floor. When he reached the apartment the door was slightly ajar. He knocked lightly on the doorframe.

A young woman came to the door, dressed in a robe with her dark hair still wet.

"Hiya. D'ye need a signature?" The Scottish accent confirmed that this was not the girl he was looking for.

"Actually, pet, it's not really a delivery, just me some wine and some flowers. I thought it'd be a bit of a surprise. Is she not in?"

"Ronnie?" The name he'd been given was Veronica, but he reckoned that was close enough.

"Yeah."

"She'll be back in a wee while. She's just gone to get some videos. Come in and have a seat while you're waitin'."

__

'That'll do very nicely', thought Spike, crossing the threshold unimpeded.

"So how do ye come to know Ronnie then?" The girl continued the conversation as she moved through to a bedroom, closing the door over, but not quite shutting it. He could hear sounds of her getting dressed as they continued.

"Well, it was when she was in America a couple of years ago. I just thought I'd look her up while I was over here for a visit."

"So when you said surprise, ye meant really big surprise."

"I think so."

The girl reappeared wearing jeans and a vest top. "I must say ye're an improvement on that creep that's normally hangin' 'roun'. I'm Isobel, her cousin, by the way."

"Will… Which creep's this?" Spike had an intuitive feeling this was something he needed to know.

"That auld guy she works with or for or whatever. Always wantin' to give her lifts. Sendin' flowers, supposedly 'cos she's so good at her job. No' that she isn't, but anybody other than her would know he's just an auld perv."

She picked up a card lying next to a vase of carnations. "See."

__

'In appreciation for your efforts above and beyond, Q'

"Yeah, definitely, pet, pervert."

****

End of chapter 14


	15. Chapter 15

**In the Name of Love**

By Tales of Spike

Spoilers: Story started just prior to As You Were and runs through to the end of Hells Bells. From there on the story goes AU, so Normal Again, Entropy etc. haven't happened and won't.

****

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Joss and his friends own everything and everyone.

****

Dedication: To everyone that's still reading this far through. Only eight more chapters and an epilogue to go after this one.

****

Feedback: I'd really like feedback, I get all insecure without it and start to think no one's reading this crap I produce, so bring it on at Sandy.Osborne@blueyonder.co.uk.

****

Chapter 15

"Yeah, definitely, pervert. It is Quentin Travers isn't it?"

"Yeah, I take it you met him when you met Ronnie?"

"No, not as such, pet. Just second hand reports, none of them exactly glowing… We are talking about the same bloke though… The one I've heard about's supposed to be in his sixties?"

"That's the one. Like I said dirty auld pervert."

"But Ronnie thinks he's just bein' friendly?"

"Mm-hm."

"So how long has this been goin' on for?"

"Must be getting' on fer a year now. Ever since he made her his research assistant. Meb-be a month or two after she came back from America."

Their conversation was halted by the sound of the flat's outer door opening.

"Hi, Ronnie. Ye've got a visitor. Ah'll go stick the kettle on while you two get reacquainted."

Spike stood up to meet the new arrival, bouquet in hand.

She seemed to look him over from the feet up, taking in the new boots, the tight black jeans, the ultramarine silk shirt and leather jacket. She stopped in her tracks, when her eyes travelled up to meet his. "W- W-."

"Will. Yeah, I told your cousin it would be a bit of a shock."

Spike was quite shocked himself. He remembered a tweedy frump with thick black glasses obscuring much of her face. Instead he seemed to be confronted by a fairly pretty young woman, even if her body language intimated that she wasn't brimming with confidence. She wore faded blue jeans, form fitting at the top but flared at the bottom, boots with a small heel and a white peasant style top with pink embroidery. She had been in the process of taking off a blue denim jacket when she recognised her guest and the old glasses had been replaced by a much lighter pair not unlike Giles'. Her hair hung loose in waves and Spike was reminded of Buffy's before she had it cut. "These are for you. I just happened to be over here for a while, and after our last little talk, I thought I'd look you up." Spike did his best to reassure the startled watcher. "I'm doin' a bit of research and I thought you might be able to help… Here, pet, sit down, you look like you've seen a ghost. I'm not that scary, not anymore."

He moved in the direction the other girl had taken, calling out as he went, "Isobel, luv, d'you think you could find a vase for these? I think I've sent your cousin into shock. If she doesn't start speaking again soon, I'm going to have to get her to sit with her head between her knees."

By the time he returned to the living room, the watcher seemed to have recovered somewhat from her surprise. "W-What are you doing here?" Her voice was barely above a whisper and Spike found that he too lowered his voice in reply.

"Take it easy, pet, it's just like I said, I'm doing a little bit of research and I remembered you from when you came to talk about Buffy. I thought you might know something about what I'm looking for and it might save me a bit of legwork. I'm still buying my meals at the butcher's so you don't need to worry on that account. Just relax. I told your cousin we met when you were over in America, so when I was over here I thought I'd look you up. If you act like you're having a panic attack, you're going to get her all worried, and you know I'm harmless." All the while he talked to her, he maintained a steady eye contact. Drusilla may have been able to manipulate people's minds with her eyes, but Spike's eyes had magic of their own. By the time he finished his speech, he knew he had the watcher's trust.

"What is it you need help with? Mr Giles should have been able to get you most information you might require assuming you are continuing to assist the slayer."

"Giles has his uses, but this particular enquiry falls more within your realm of expertise. How much does your cousin know about what you do? Can we speak freely?"

"She doesn't know anything about the Council, just that I work as a researcher."

"Have you eaten tonight, pet?"

"Not yet, we were going to get take-away."

"Right then, pick a restaurant that'll let us in wearing jeans and that we won't need a reservation for and dinner's on me."

She moved over to the phone and pressed a single button, before engaging in a conversation in Italian.

"We have a table for one hour from now. They will send over Isobel's takeaway later. It's a fifteen minute walk so that gives us time to have tea before we leave."

* * * * *

"So, you know the contract I'm talkin' about."

"Oh yes. It came up for auction just after word got out about your incarceration. It went for a fraction of what it would normally raise, but then no-one expected you to escape, and it was widely supposed that you would be killed."

"But do you know who bought it?"

"Of course… I did."

* * * * *

It had taken Buffy most of an evening to read through the letters that Lorne had written on Spike's behalf. Apparently after Spike came round the first time Lorne had adjusted his chains so that he could move his hands more freely, and after that he had been able to spend a lot of the time reading. For a week or so he'd suffered from delusional spells, but these had gradually tailed off, and finally about two weeks after the operation, he'd been ready to fly to England.

The day after the letters arrived, Dawn was just home from school when the florists van arrived. She knew it wasn't anyone's birthday or anything, so it took her a few seconds to work out why the deliveryman was carrying two huge bouquets, but once she saw that one was made up almost entirely from bright scarlet roses she knew who they were from. She rushed to open the door. As she had thought the red roses were for Buffy, and the second bunch, which was made up of mixed white and purple flowers, was for her. She could barely wait until she signed for the delivery to open the card.

Hi pet,

Just a little something to let you know I miss you.

Spike.

She rushed to the kitchen and sorted out the flowers into vases, taking hers up to her room, since Spike had obviously chosen them to match the colour scheme there. Buffy's bouquet had to be split between two vases, as they didn't have a single vase that was big enough on its own. She left them on a table in the living room, tucking the card underneath one of the vases. Hey, and she did it all without dropping anything, spilling anything or cutting herself when she was trimming all the stems. She could barely wait for Buffy to get back from work.

It was mid-evening before Buffy finished work at DMP. Rather than going home, she decided to take a quick circuit round the cemeteries. If she did it now, she could spend the rest of the night at home with Dawn when she did get there. It wasn't quite dark yet, but the sun had slid down past the horizon so she figured she was just as likely to run into vamps now as later.

She was just over halfway round her patrol route when she came to the cemetery where Spike had his crypt. Vampires or any other nasties had been so few and far between as to be non-existent, and she was beginning to wonder if she was going to have to do a later patrol anyway. As she stood outside his home she noticed the blast marks on the door. She knew that if he hadn't warned her to stay away she would have gone in and sat on his sofa or lain on his bed. She would have spent a few minutes just to absorb what she could of his essence. 

He'd been there for so long despite her efforts to make him go, that it had never occurred to her that she could possibly miss him now he was gone. She'd never suspected that she would feel incomplete without him. She couldn't believe she had become so used to him acting as back-up on patrol that fighting without him seemed strange. Even when he wasn't supposed to be there he seemed to show up whenever she was outnumbered, or outclassed or in danger of being hurt. She missed the way she'd been able to talk to him when she first came back, or even just sit together in silence. She hoped that when he came back they'd manage to reclaim that ease they'd once had.

She was so preoccupied with her thoughts she didn't notice the demon coming up behind her until he'd almost drawn level with her. She pulled her stake from her pocket and spun to face her opponent.

"Clem. It is Clem, right?"

"Hey, Buffy."

"Whatcha doin' round here?"

"Just thought I'd see if he was back. He's been gone a few weeks now."

"Nah, still busy places that aren't here. Don't think he's even on this continent any more, if all's goin' to plan."

"You've heard from him then, how's he doin'?"

"Don't tell anyone, but he got his chip out… Which way ya headed?"

Clem pointed back the way he'd come. Buffy decided that seemed like as good a direction as any for her to patrol in. She strolled in that general direction and Clem ambled alongside.

"He'll be pleased."

"What makes you say that."

"Well, he never thought you would trust him unless he could prove it was his choice not the chip."

"So you think that's why he had it done?"

"It's why he wanted it."

"So the whole cult of assassins some of whom are human, didn't have anything to do with it."

"Not when he first mentioned it to me."

"So you talk about all this stuff when you're playing poker?"

"Nah, sometimes we get a drink afterwards or sometimes I come over if there's something good on TV."

"So would you say you know him pretty well?"

Clem shrugged. The mismatched pair continued their conversation as they headed back towards Clem's home.

By the time she finally arrived home, she was tired and she was even prepared to admit she was missing him. She decided to forego the pleasure of cooking. She called up to Dawn as she took off her coat. "Hey, Dawn, what type of takeout d'ya." She paused as Dawn came barrelling down the stairs at full speed. "Want tonight? If I knew you were that hungry I'da picked something up on the way home."

"Not hungry." Dawn covered her sister's eyes before steering her through to the living room and flicking the light switch. "Surprise!" She removed her hand letting her sister see the flowers on the table. "The card's underneath the vase. Open it."

Buffy moved forward as if in a dream and pulled the card out.

Hello Love,

I know I shouldn't have, but it's the only money I've got and I couldn't resist spoiling you just a bit. I'll make it up to you when I get home.

I love you

Spike

"What's he say?"

Buffy smiled, hiding the card from her sister. "Hey! Personal… Did you sort out all the vases and stuff?"

"Mm-hm. And I did mine, come see, I've got them up in my room." She towed Buffy up the stairs behind her. "Anya called. He sent a bunch to her at the Magic Box too. Yellow roses. Yellow roses are for friendship, right? Anya said that all the different flowers used to have different meanings and people would know them, but it was sort of a Victorian thing and it died out, but her and Spike are both old enough to remember. Mm… Chinese, I think, and look aren't they gorgeous." 

"Thanks, Dawn. They're lovely and it's really nice that everything was all fixed when I got in."

"No problem."

__

'And thank you, too, Spike, wherever you are and however you paid for them.' Just when she'd been feeling lost without him, he'd sent something to show he cared and he was still thinking about them. Not to mention making Dawn this happy.

"Why don't you get creative with a menu and a telephone. I'm going to go sit in the living room for a while." She picked the coat up off of Dawn's bed as she left the room. When she got downstairs she sat on the couch with her knees up and the coat draped over her like a blanket, just looking at the flowers he'd sent.

She stayed that way till she had to get up to pay the deliveryman for the food.

****

End of chapter 15


	16. Chapter 16

**In the Name of Love**

By Tales of Spike

Spoilers: Story started just prior to As You Were and runs through to the end of Hells Bells. From there on the story goes AU, so Normal Again, Entropy etc. haven't happened and won't.

****

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Joss and his friends own everything and everyone.

****

Feedback: I'd really like feedback, I get all insecure without it and start to think no one's reading this crap I produce, so bring it on at Sandy.Osborne@blueyonder.co.uk.

****

Chapter 16

As Spike had suspected getting into the building had been easy. He'd arrived about eleven o'clock and made his way up the fire escape, stopping for a cigarette whenever anyone from the building might spot his upward movement. When he got to the floor he wanted, he simply had a few cigarettes and waited. When someone came out, he threw away the remains of his cigarette, grabbed the door before it could shut and walked in. Perhaps the suit hadn't been such a waste of money after all.

About a quarter of the floor-space was taken up by the administration workers and junior staff working for the lawyers who had offices on this floor. Their work area was divided up using five foot high partitions, so that each desk was walled off on three sides, possibly to provide some privacy, but more likely to make it more difficult for the junior workers to talk to each other. Spike picked an area where he couldn't see or hear anyone working. He scanned a few of the cubicles, before he picked one where the arrangement of the furniture provided an area where he could wait out an hour or two without being easily seen. He pulled a paperback from his pocket and settling into his spot in the corner of the cubicle, he read until the last person on that floor was leaving to go home. As the lights were switched off he moved through the shadows, getting as close as he dared to the final departing employee. As far as he could tell, the employee did nothing to activate any alarm before he left. Spike moved quickly to the light switches and flashed the lights on and off a couple of times before moving to the back door.

Giles who had been waiting for the signal made his way up the fire escape and in through the door which Spike opened for him. The pair had hidden again until the guard completed his rounds. Spike had spotted several sensors for the alarm system, concentrated around the exits, which seemed to pick up infrared, but he had been able to ensure that his movements would mask Giles'. Scanning through the nameplates on the office doors taking up three of the walls, he wasn't surprised that the name he wanted was on the door of one of the corner suites. 

Giles worked on picking the lock of the office door. He was more than a little out of practice and it was taking some time. "Refresh my memory as to why I'm doing this again?"

"Because, Watcher, from what little I've heard about your youthful indiscretions, you're probably as good at it as I am, and my superior senses make me better qualified as look-out."

"No, I mean why am I here at two in the morning, with you, trying to break into this particular office, out of all the possibles."

"Call it a hunch, Ripper."

It was more than a hunch. He'd phoned the firm this morning and managed to trick the firm's receptionist into telling him which partner dealt with Quentin Travers affairs. He'd pretended that Travers had recommended his lawyer to him, but he'd forgotten the name. He even had an appointment set up for the week after next, but somehow he didn't think he'd be keeping it. Of course, theoretically even confirming that Quentin Travers was a client had been a breach of client confidentiality, but he wasn't going to complain.

Once Giles got the door open, Spike checked the room for alarm sensors before the older man entered.

"Check the secretary's desk, see if she's got some sort of list of client names and addresses. I'll try the filing cabinets."

Spike was relieved to find that the filing cabinets were unlocked and he quickly located a file with Quentin Travers name on it. He had hoped to find surveillance photographs and other materials, but all that the file contained was copies of correspondence between Travers and the firm. The letters were enough to confirm his suspicions.

Ronnie had bought the contract when it came up for sale. When she had submitted her thesis, it had been included as supporting documentation. Although it rightfully belonged to her, personally, Quentin Travers as the chairman of the committee reviewing the thesis had procured the document and passed it on to the lawyers. He had used the firm as agents when hiring the Order of Taraka, being unwilling to deal with them directly. It also told him that Isobel had been right. Sunnydale wasn't the only place he'd had people under surveillance.

Giles had come through from the outer office whilst Spike was still skimming through the file. Seeing the expression on the vampire's face he waited for Spike to finish reading before he interrupted.

"There are two or three people whose names I recognise on this list. They all work for the council."

"Don't worry. I think we've got our man. His address could be quite useful though." Spike passed the file to Giles. "I think they must have some other stuff stored somewhere else though. Photos, detective's reports and things like that. I'm going to have a look around on this floor. If we're lucky they'll be here rather than some centralised storeroom. Stay in the office away from all the sensors. I'll be back in a few minutes." 

Spike did a quick circuit of the rooms on that floor but was unable to find what he wanted. He made a note of the information he wanted from the secretary's records and then got Giles to put the list back where it came from. The file on Quentin Travers he kept in its entirety. Until they had reason to use that particular file they would never even notice there was one missing. Fortunately the lock on the office was a Yale type, so it was easy to lock it again when they had finished.

Spike headed for the side of the building where the stairwell was situated but hadn't gone far before he signalled to Giles to hide. The two moved into cover with seconds to spare before the security guard appeared again to do his rounds. He walked a slow circuit of the floor, checking all the office doors were locked. He panned his flashlight around the partitioned area in a half-hearted manner before moving back to the stairs. As soon as he'd gone Spike moved silently over to the door leading to the stairwell. Listening carefully he determined when the guard had moved onto the floor above. He motioned Giles over and the two moved down to the floor one above the entry level before the guard had time to finish his patrol of the floor above. 

"I assume you have some plan for us getting out of here?" Giles whispered.

"Well, Watcher, that depends on how much detail you want before you call something a plan." He sighed and raised his eyebrow. "The alarms on the doors are probably live by now. I'm hoping we can find a window that we can get out of without it being too obvious, and if need be if we do trip an alarm at least they shouldn't realise which office we've been in."

He moved toward the back of the building and was soon rewarded when he found a window that he could open. Unfortunately all the ones near to the fire escape had been nailed shut several coats of paint previously, but those where the fire escape didn't provide easy access hadn't been sealed. Spike checked for some sort of connection to the alarm system, but found none. He opened the window and looked out. There was a strip of grass about four feet wide between the building and the car park.

"I think even you should be able to manage that, if you hang by your fingers and drop. I'll go second, that way I can hopefully push the window shut before I jump." He stood back to let the watcher through. 

Giles looked out the window. "You never did give me a good reason why I'm here with you." He slid one leg through the opening and sitting on the sill pulled the other through.

"Because, Rupert, I thought you'd be a bit more understanding about my killing your boss if you were there when I found the evidence against him." Spike replied to the figure who was now brushing himself off after landing on the grass below.

Spike pulled himself through the window, and balanced on the ledge while he tried to push the window shut. At first he didn't think it was going to move but when it did it shut with a slamming sound and Spike lost his footing and landed on his back half on the grass below, half on the car park. Pausing only to check the file was still tucked in his waistband he grabbed Giles arm and pulled him along behind as he ran to get clear of the area in case one of the guards investigated.

* * * * *

"You knew before we went in there that it was Quentin Travers." The watcher sounded more than a little annoyed.

"Let's just say I had some very strong suspicions, but no actual proof."

"So now that you have proof what do you intend to do?"

"Try again tomorrow. See if I can find the rest of it. The surveillance footage."

"And then?"

"Then Mr Travers and I are going to have ourselves a little confrontation…"

Spike poured a large measure of whisky each and passed one to the watcher.

"You plan to kill him."

"Well, I could try taking him out for a nice meal, maybe talk him round to my point of view, but somehow I don't see that as a permanent solution." Spike sighed. "Of course I'm going to kill him. It's him or me, which one do you think I'm going to choose?"

"Are you even sure that killing him will stop the Tarakans? The lawyers may see it carried through even if something happens to him."

"Even Dru and Darla couldn't manage a whole firm of lawyers in one sitting. I'll just have to try it this way first."

"Buffy wouldn't approve of murder."

"You think I haven't considered that? I just can't think of another way to settle this, and unless you have some sort of plan I suggest you drop the subject, or maybe you'd rather stake me yourself?"

The remark was made more in jest than as a serious proposition but Spike watched the man and knew that every instinct within him said the vampire should die. That human life, whoever it may be, would always be worth more than the existence of an undead fiend. A few months of co-operation meant next to nothing compared to the mindset developed over his entire adult life. 

Spike realised that the man he'd come to respect still regarded him as vermin. He absorbed the pain, as he had so often since he crossed paths with Buffy and her friends. "You've got the best part of two days to make up your mind, Rupert. I can't hurt you. You know that if anything happened to you it would all but finish her. It's been bad enough for her just knowing you're so far away… I guess you'll have to do what your conscience dictates." 

Spike knocked back the remains of his drink and then topped up both their glasses. Bravado won out over prudence. "Maybe I should make the decision a bit easier for you. Can't have you making a choice like this without having all the facts. I figured she might want to tell you, but I suppose the situation demands that I do the honours. Buffy and I came to an agreement before I left Sunnydale. To put it formally, she has agreed to let me pay court to her."

Giles' face turned a shade nearer to purple and Spike once again threw back the drink in his glass. "How could you think you would ever deserve a girl like that?"

"I don't think there's a bloody man alive or otherwise who will ever deserve to even walk the same planet as her, but I do think I could make her happy. The girl needs a man who can stand next to her, not hide behind her. She needs someone who can support her, not someone she has to protect, and she needs someone who can understand the darkness inside her and not condemn her for it. Now, maybe I just helped you decide that I'm the one who has to die, but I'm not going to have it said that I hid what was happening from you. If you can't stand the thought of my hands on your precious daughter then maybe you better just take this and get it over with." 

Spike pulled a stake from the waistband of his trousers and sent it spinning across the desk between the two.

* * * * *

"Hey, Buffster!" Xander pushed the back door open. "Anybody, the school shuttle service is here!" He wandered through to the living room in search of the house's occupants, just as Buffy came down the stairs, her hair still wet from the shower.

"Hi. We all slept in. Dawn'll be down in a minute. D'you want some coffee?"

"Coffee is good. Caffeine makes me not asleep. What's with the florist shop? Have you been keeping secrets or is Richard getting paid more than I am?"

"N-no secrets and no Richard. I mean I told Willow and Tara and Dawn but you were kind of not here, b-but I thought someone would have told you."

Xander poured two coffees from the pot on the counter. "It's no big, Buff. Things have been, well…" He shrugged, and gave a half smile that didn't reach his eyes. "It's nice one of us is happy, I just wish it didn't seem so much like we have to take it in turns. So spill. Who is Mr Right and how d'ya meet him?"

"Em, well he saw me dust a vamp outside the Bronze and then he introduced himself and said he'd see me Saturday, but as I recall he turned up a day early for Parent Teacher Night."

"Spike. You're kidding me right. You cannot be saying that you're seeing that freak. Angel was bad enough but at least he had a soul. All Spike has is a little bit of plastic. How could you bear to let him touch you? He's a fucking vampire. They're all psychotic murderers, yet he's infamous even to them and you're going to let him put his hands on you. You think the boy-scout act'll keep up when that chip of his stops working. You think he'll still be sending flowers when he's got you to open your legs for him. You used to be creeped out by his twisted little obsession now you-"

Xander was cut off by a scream almost in the ultrasonic range.

"Get out, get out." Dawn had made it downstairs in time to catch the end of this tirade. "If you're going to come in here and insult people we care about then you can just go right back out again. When Buffy was gone Spike was the only person that was really there for me whenever I needed him. He doesn't have some twisted obsession. He's in love with Buffy and the sooner you get that clear the happier everyone is going to be, but if you can't, just stay away from this house and the people in it."

"Dawn." Both Buffy and Xander tried to calm the teenager.

"Dawn, I know Spike kept you company and whatnot but you can't forget that he's a soulless killer."

"Yeah, he hasn't changed at all has he, Xander?" Dawn's voice was heavy with sarcasm. "You've killed more people than he has in the last year than he has. You and your singing, dancing demon that you were going to let take me or Buffy if you hadn't been cornered into confessing. But you've got a soul so you must be all right. He hasn't so that makes him evil. Well, maybe that makes me evil too, did you ever think of that. Did you ever wonder, maybe making a body and some memories isn't so tricky, but a soul, how can a blob of energy have a soul? Did anyone ever check? That's it, I'm a little clepto. It must be because I'm evil and soulless.

I'm the teenager, but you're the one who needs to grow up. I would say that you can care about Anya and she went round wreaking vengeance for ten times as long as Spike's been a vampire but then you've treated her like shit too. You're a hypocrite; no one's any good unless they're human. Well, I know that Spike would die to protect me or Buffy or probably even to protect the rest of you and I seem to recall something from RE about greater love hath no man but that he'd give up his life for another. Spike would give up his life for us. You can't even give up your prejudices."

Having temporarily run out of things to say on the subject Dawn stormed out of the front door.

"Buffy, you know I'm just trying to help you see things clearly. You can't want to be with that thing."

"Xander, Dawn was right. You may have helped bring me back from the dead, but that doesn't give you the right to tell me how to run my life, and if you want to call yourself my friend don't even think about taking this up with Spike, but if you do don't be surprised if he gives as good as he gets. Go away and think about this and if you really can't come to terms with it then I guess Dawn's right and you're not welcome in this house."

She opened the back door and waited for him to leave.

__

'Oh God. How often has it been me making the remarks about Spike being soulless? How often have I said stuff like that in front of Dawn?' 

****

End of chapter 16


	17. Chapter 17

**In the Name of Love**

By Tales of Spike

Spoilers: Story started just prior to As You Were and runs through to the end of Hells Bells. From there on the story goes AU, so Normal Again, Entropy etc. haven't happened and won't.

****

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Joss and his friends own everything and everyone.

****

Feedback: I'd really like feedback, I get all insecure without it and start to think no one's reading this crap I produce, so bring it on at Sandy.Osborne@blueyonder.co.uk.

****

Chapter 17 

Giles caught the stake just before it spun off the end of the desk. He looked down at the sharpened wood in his hand and turned once more on Spike.

"What the hell are you playing at? Are you trying to force me to stake you?"

"Yes. No. I'm trying to make you think about where that fucking look of disgust on your face is coming from. I'm tired of wondering what I have to do and how long I'm going to have to do it for before you wankers are going to decide I'm not something you'd scrape off the bottom of your shoe with a stick. I'm tired of doing everything I can to be good enough for you lot and it never being enough. I'm fed up of the thought that the only way you'll ever accept that it's not all some big con is by me dying. And even then if you manage to get out a good word between you and Xander, it'll only be because you're relieved I'm not around any more.

If that look's really about how you feel, then yeah, I would rather you tried to stake me. At least it would be fuckin' honest."

"Spike…" Giles laid the stake on the desk and removed his glasses, wiping them with a white cloth handkerchief he drew from his jacket pocket. "I'm sure you won't be surprised if I say that I'm not exactly happy about you and Buffy becoming involved. You are, however, both adults and it isn't my place to interfere. I do appreciate that you have changed quite considerably over the past two years or so, but the fact of the matter is that none of us know whether you'll be able to keep this up. If you'll pardon the metaphor, it's like dealing with a reformed alcoholic. It doesn't matter how long he's been on the wagon, everybody knows that it's only going to take one drink and he'll be off on a binge.

You've barely recovered from having the chip removed and on the third night you've been here you're already talking about killing someone. I understand that there are mitigating circumstances, but you must see, that from my perspective it has to cast grave doubts on your ability to live peacefully within society. Have you discussed your plans with Buffy?"

"No… no, it got kind of glossed over. I mean she knew that one of the reasons I wanted the chip out was to be able to defend myself if I was attacked by humans, and I sort of figured if she was okay with those Byzantium blokes getting' killed last year the principle was the same. I don't think the fact that I might have to kill someone to get the contract revoked ever came up…"

"Maybe you should speak to her."

"I think you might be right. I'd rather have those guys after me indefinitely than put her in the position where she feels she has to stake me."

"Good. And Spike, about you and Buffy, if you're right and you do manage to make her happy, then maybe I might feel able to cut you some slack. I'm sure you know what to expect if you hurt her. I'll leave you to make that phone call."

"Yeah, you and half the population of Sunnydale, but none of you would get the chance 'cos I'd sooner dust myself than hurt her."

Giles merely nodded before he left Spike alone in his hotel room.

Buffy and Dawn were sitting down to dinner together. Buffy had made an effort to cook one of Dawn's favourite dishes and she had bought a couple of pints of ice cream for what she hoped would be their chat afterwards.

"So, how much earlier do I need to get you up for school tomorrow to allow time for you walking?" Buffy asked in her lightest voice, not wanting to start things off on the wrong foot by appearing critical.

"About twenty-five minutes, maybe half an hour."

"So does that mean you picked up a detention today?"

"Nah, I was lucky, when I got down to the second corner Scott Cooper's dad gave me a lift and I just made it in time. Don't worry, no extra ammunition for the wicked witch of social services. What 'bout you. You get to work okay?

"Yeah, just. Xander was out the back door about a minute after you left by the front. I didn't really have much to add to what you said, just that he should go away and think about it and if he couldn't come to terms with it then stay away." 

"Cool. I kinda thought you might cave and be all apolgise-y when I left."

"Apologetic. And no I'm not going to stand there and let a guy who has one not-demon, not-dead girl on his dating resume tell me I can't date Spike. Spike deserves better treatment than he's been getting especially from me, but from the others as well. I meant to have a word with everybody when I told them we were going to be dating, but then when it was just Willow and Tara it felt a bit silly, 'cos most of what I'd planned to say was mostly aimed at Xander. After this morning I wish I'd said it anyway.

Dawn, what you said this morning about not having a soul. Were you really just baiting Xander or is this something that's possible?"

"It's possible, I just don't know how I'm supposed to tell. I mean I'm not all Angelus, but then I'm not part demon and Spike's not even all evil any more and he is. It seems to me though if a soul's supposed to be that special then they couldn't just magic one up."

"Why wait till now to say anything?"

"Because I didn't know what you would say. You kept saying stuff about how you couldn't be with Spike and the only difference between him and Angel apart from the fact I like Spike is that Angel has a soul…"

"So when I said I would go out with Spike you figured I might be able to take the news…" 

"Duh."

"Dawn, you know there's nothing you could ever tell me, there's nothing you could ever do that would stop me loving you. I might have been pig-headed about letting Spike in because I was scared-, because I am scared, but I have loved you all your life. Spike says love is all about blood, in fact he said everything is always about blood, and your blood is my blood. That's never going to change. You aren't ever going to be able to get rid of me. I'm just so sorry if I said anything about Spike that hurt you… I know that doesn't make it right… I can't…" Buffy choked up. 

Dawn abandoned her meal and moved round the table to where Buffy was sitting. She put her arms around her sister and for once she was the one to comfort her. "Hey, I know you didn't mean to get at me. I know you love me." She rocked Buffy backwards and forwards in her arms.

Buffy looked up into the eyes of her sister. "Whatever you want to do about this, just say it and it's done. I can talk to Tara, see if she can tell whether you have a soul or not. We can do research, see if we can find anything on how the monks made you. If you want we can drop the whole subject and not say anyth-."

Buffy's voice was cut off by the sound of her sister's mobile ringing. "It's Spike!" Dawn shouted as she ran into the living room to get it. 

"How do you know? You haven't answered it?"

"I programmed a ring tone just for him. Couldn't find any Sex Pistols so I made it the theme from Men In Black… Hello, Spike?"

"Hello, pet, how's things?"

"We're having a day of high drama. Buffy can explain. Thanks for the flowers. They came yesterday and they're gorgeous. I'm going to put Buffy on now not that I want rid of you but I think I can wait."

"Okay, luv, I'll speak to you in a bit." Dawn passed the phone to Buffy.

"Spike, hi…" Buffy managed to get out a greeting before she was forced to sniff.

"Buffy, are you crying? What's wrong, pet? Should I come home?" Spike's reply was verging on frantic.

"I'm just a bit sniffly. It's a long story and maybe, but it depends what's going on at your end."

"Okay, love, take a nice deep breath, let it out nice and slow and then start at the beginning of this long story." As he spoke, the vampire tossed around stuff in his duffle bag until he found the charger for his phone and connected it up.

Spike listened quietly as Buffy told him about the day's events, occasionally prompting her quietly to continue, until he got the full tale.

"Okay, pet, if it's okay with you, I'll leave the Xander side of things until later. Much as you like him, I don't think that's what you're really upset about, is it?" Spike began to talk her through the problem, his voice deliberately pitched, calm and soft.

"N-no."

"Right, so there's one bit of this I can straighten out now, no problem. Because of what Dawn said your suddenly thinking back over all the grief you've given me in front of her, and apart from feeling guilty about what she's been thinking of it all, to be blunt, you've begun to realise what a bitch you've been to me?"

"Uh-huh?"

"But we're talking about things you did before we came to our agreement, right?"

"Yeah."

"Buffy, as far as I'm concerned, that day we drove to Vegas is where "we" started. Every bad thing that happened between us up to then, it's gone. Forgiven, if not forgotten. We need a fresh start. I kinda got the impression that you went along with that idea, so, if you can let me off the hook about kidnapping you and trying to kill you, I think you get a get out of jail free card on the harsh language."

"Okay." Buffy agreed, although secretly she felt as if she were being let off lightly. She knew that the emotional scars that her words caused were probably far more damaging than any hurt he had caused her, even if some of his comments had been pretty painful too.

"So now we have the biggie. How's Dawn?"

"I don't know, to be honest. I'd almost say happier, like she's pleased it's out in the open." Buffy looked across at her younger sister, who nodded to express her agreement with Buffy's assessment. "She's obviously thought it all through as far as she can on her own and we were just discussing what our options might be when you rang and I still don't know why you rang."

"Why I rang can wait until my girls are feeling better. Put the Niblet back on the phone, but don't you go away. I'll want to speak with you again in a few minutes."

Spike waited till he heard the phone being passed back.

"Okay, pet, way I see it there are two main options. We assume that now Monkey Boy knows your secret all the other Scoobies are goin' to find out sooner or later. Or we hope he's going to be an anti-social git. Personally, I don't think this'll stay hidden but if you'd rather wait and see, I wouldn't blame you. Funny enough, I don't think any of them'll give you any serious grief about it. I think they'll probably be sympathetic but it has to be your choice. What do you think?"

"Tell them."

"Next question, would it help if I was there?"

"Duh… of course it would be nicer if you were around, but even if you started making arrangements now it could be days before you got back and it's going to sound better coming from me and Buffy rather than Xander."

"Okay, pet, point taken. If that's the case it might be a couple of days before I finish up here. Should I leave now, or wait till I'm done here?"

"Finish up what you're doing. That way I know when you get back, we've got your undivided attention." 

"Okay, bit. I'll see you in a few days. Any other news you want to tell me, or is it all too sensitive to repeat in front of your sister?"

"It'll keep."

"Right, pet, in that case, I'll tell you the same thing I plan to tell your sister. I'm really proud and I feel really lucky that the pair of you would stick up for me like that in front of Xander. That said, for all we hate each other's guts, I know he loves both of you and vice versa, so it's up to the three of you to sort out some sort of agreement, because I'm not going to be the cause of breaking you lot up. If he hasn't been in touch with the two of you by tomorrow night, I want one of you to get in touch with him. Okay?"

"Okay." From the tone of her voice Spike could just imagine the eye rolling that accompanied the response.

"Right then, so other than telling you, I've missed you, I think it's time to pass the phone again, pet."

"Okay, missed you too, bye." Dawn gave the phone back to Buffy again.

Spike quickly covered the ground he'd already been over with Dawn. 

"So, pet, is that everything sort of settled over there?"

"Sort of. You haven't seen Giles have you. I've been trying to ring him all day whenever it wasn't some silly time over there, but I keep getting his answering machine."

"That's because he's staying in town with a friend, ostensibly to be handy if I need him, but I don't know if he's checking his messages. I could give you his friend's number, but I'd leave it a while before you ring. He'd just left here when I rang you and it's quarter past four in the morning now, so…"

"Give me a minute to get a pen…" Spike supplied Olivia's number.

"Have we got a name to go with that?"

"Olivia."

"Aaah…" said Buffy.

"Does that mean you are aware of the lady in question?"

"Yeah, so are you, in a sense, even if you weren't formally introduced. She's the reason you went to stay in Xander's basement."

"So this is a long term thing then. Looks like Rupert is a bit of a dark horse. He must be doing something right if he can keep a pretty girl who's that much younger than he is" Spike joked, feigning an incredulous tone, "and I always thought the only company he had at night was a good book. I must have underestimated him."

"Little do you know…" Buffy muttered underneath her breath. There was no way Buffy was going to tell Spike about her mother and Giles and the band candy. For one thing, Spike would probably take it as a challenge to find more outrageous public places in which to have sex. She really didn't think she was up for finding anywhere that could remotely compete with on the hood of a police squad car.

"I heard that, Slayer, and I reserve my right to make relevant enquiries at a later date, when I can get at your ticklish spots while I question you."

The words, "You wouldn't dare!" escaped the slayer's mouth before she realised it was exactly the wrong thing to say. "Stop smirking. I can tell from twelve thousand miles away over a phone line, so stop it."

"Sorry, pet, it's beyond my control."

"Spike, not that it isn't nice to hear from you, and I did want to say thank you for the flowers, but why did you phone in the first place? Since this is the first actual call as opposed to text message that you've made I assume there was actually a reason."

"Actually, the Watcher told me to. Oh, and I'd better warn you, we kind of had a bit of a disagreement and I sort of told him about our future plans. He doesn't know anything about what happened after he left, but he knows we've agreed to see each other when I get back, so you've been warned."

"How did he take it?"

"Oh turned purple, looked like his head was going to explode, yelled a bit, I yelled back, threw him a stake, then he calmed down a bit and said he didn't approve but we were both adults. Then he said if I actually made you happy he might consider treating me like a human being and followed up with the standard threat about what'll happen if I hurt you. So better than expected I suppose."

"Oh, that reminds me, I don't know if he realises I meant it literally but I told Xander if he tried to come to you about the two of us, that you would give as good as you get. That doesn't mean you get to hit first or use your full strength, I don't want any permanent damage on either of you, so take it easy on him, remember he doesn't heal like you do and he's more breakable in the first place."

"I do actually get to hit him though?" Spike said sarcastically.

"Only if he hits you first."

"If I agree to this, I'm going to want lots of special treatment to make up for it. That boy's been askin' for a good hidin' for two years and you want me to take it easy on him."

"Check, lots of special treatment to be willingly supplied." Buffy responded in a low husky voice.

"Buffy," her name was almost a growl, "for one thing as you so rightly pointed out, I'm twelve thousand miles away. And for another I meant what I said about doing things in the right order. No Spike sex toys. Consider yourself cut-off until you're ready to make a commitment. So. Stop. Playing. With. Me… Love."

She could tell from his tone that he was serious, but the way has voice softened when he said the last word, she knew he wasn't holding any grudges. She also felt tremendously empowered, knowing that she could have such an effect on him, using just her voice.

"I'll behave." She replied in a meek tone.

"God, Buffy, you better tell me you haven't got that pout on your face or you're going to drive me insane, woman."

"No pout, no pout at all," she lied, trying to allow him to regain his equilibrium. "Anyway, Giles told you to phone because…"

"…because I have to make a decision, and it isn't one I'm very well equipped to make. We know who is behind everything. I must be getting really good at being obnoxious, because I've never even met him. Anyway, the thing is, the person in question is human. 

Now, I know that if it couldn't be helped, you wouldn't object if I ended up killing someone in self-defence. At least that was my take on the whole camper van incident, I could be wrong though. 

The problem is, actually there's two parts to the problem… I can only think of one way to get the contract stopped. I doubt the gentleman in question could be negotiated with and even if he gave his word I doubt he'd keep it. I don't know whether I could really say it's self-defence, and the last thing I want is for you to feel you have to stake me… I think it has to be your call, but it gets worse. 

If I go ahead as I'd planned then the fact that the guy in question is Travers is going to mean that I'll probably have the whole bloody council wanting my head, and getting pissed off with you if you don't deliver. I think I could use some advice, pet."

"Great, Spike, that sounds even more complicated than finding out if my sister has a soul. I think I want a lot more details. What exactly have you found out? What proof do you have? And why does he want you dead? Is he using his money or council money?"

"Well I think at last count there were about four different motives I could come up with, but for some reason, possibly to do with the fact that it's nearly dawn, there's only three come immediately to mind. Bollocks! I'm sure I counted four one at one point…"

****

End of chapter 17


	18. Chapter 18

**In the Name of Love**

By Tales of Spike

Spoilers: Story started just prior to As You Were and runs through to the end of Hells Bells. From there on the story goes AU, so Normal Again, Entropy etc. haven't happened and won't.

****

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Joss and his friends own everything and everyone.

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A/N: I think maybe there's been some confusion about different contracts. Way back in chapter 6 Spike managed to coerce Travers' lawyers into sending the contract that was used to trick him into keeping the eggs, to his LA hotel. Physically, that contract is assumed to be in the possession of Wesley, who was doing some research on it. Okay, Spike has since found out that it rightfully belongs to Ronnie, whether he admits to her that he has it or not remains to be seen. We don't know whether any "magic" inherent to the contract itself, if it ever had any, has been used up. 

Contract No2, the one causing problems at this stage of the story is a "contract" in the mob sense of the word; the contract which has been taken out on Spike's life. i.e. Travers hiring the Order of Taraka to assassinate him. Hope this clears any confusion. 

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Feedback: I'd really like feedback, I get all insecure without it and start to think no one's reading this crap I produce, so bring it on at Sandy.Osborne@blueyonder.co.uk.

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Chapter 18

Giles' sleep was troubled. He had killed in the past, so he knew that wasn't the problem. Given the same choice he would do so again. By his very existence, Ben had been a danger to Buffy, so Giles had killed him. It was simple. Ben's guilt or innocence, good and evil, these were all just irrelevant abstract concepts. If a stranger had to die to safeguard the life of his surrogate daughter then Giles wouldn't hesitate. He could argue that it was logic, that he'd done it because keeping Buffy alive or preventing Glory's return helped the greater good. He could say that, but it wouldn't be true. He'd done it because he had a father's love for the child. The words Quentin Travers had used when he fired him.

If he had to decide between Spike and Travers… well, he certainly didn't love either of them. Logic didn't help much either. Giles had no idea why Travers wanted Spike dead. For all he knew Spike may deserve everything that was coming to him. Although surely if that were the case Travers could just make known whatever crimes the vampire had committed and it would then be up to the slayer to dispense justice in the form of a stake.

If he had to rate the two as to which was more evil at that point in time, then they would probably have been roughly on a par but maybe Quentin would have had the edge.

Spike had the greater potential for good if he could cope without the chip and continued to help the slayer. However he also had the greater potential for evil. If he failed to adapt to life without the chip and his self-control broke, he could have become the scourge of Europe again, or the whole damn world if he chose to. On a good day, without the chip, Spike could walk straight into any of the smaller cities in the world and set himself up as master. The bigger cities might actually take some work.

When it comes to past sins Spike certainly had more to answer for.

Giles was sworn to protect humanity from the forces of darkness and at the end of the day Travers was human and Spike was a vampire.

Logic could be used to argue this any way you wanted it to be, but other than wanting to do what's best for Buffy, Giles didn't know what he wanted. So should he be protecting her from Spike or letting Spike protect her? God only knows… He could only hope that Buffy or one of her friends came up with an alternative.

He still hadn't slept when the phone rang at seven thirty. Olivia answered, but quickly passed the phone to him. "Buffy," she informed him.

"Hello, Buffy. How are you?"

"Just peachy, Giles, Just peachy?"

"Is this to do with Spike?"

"Not really. It's Dawn. I've been trying to contact you since this morning, but it was only when Spike rang that I found out where to get in touch with you."

"What seems to be the problem?"

"Giles, we need to find out how we can tell if she has a soul."

"Oh dear lord."

Had he got as far as putting them on Giles would have removed his glasses and cleaned them. As it was he pinched the bridge of his nose. Apart from the fact he hadn't been knocked unconscious lately, he could almost believe he was back on the Hellmouth.

* * * * *

Buffy called a greeting to Anya as she entered the shop, and then waited until she had finished serving her customer before going over to speak to her.

"Hi, Anya. Has the shop been busy today?"

"Not really, but I did sell one large icon at a large mark-up on trade price so I should do quite well over all."

"Oh, good, I think. Anya are you sure you're okay with us holding the Scooby meeting here tonight?"

Anya nipped fretfully at her lower lip, but nodded. "I still look after all Giles books and things, so you and the… others need to be able to use them. I'll just stay with the money out of the way. I can do research tomorrow if there are any quiet periods."

"Xander might not come. Dawn and I had a bit of an argument with him yesterday, which is kind of why we're having the meeting, but I'll explain later or Dawn will. No one's spoken to him since; I got his machine when I rang… I don't know whether it makes it better or worse for you if he doesn't come…"

"I don't know either." Anya's tone seemed to suggest that when things were this bad, there was no worse.

"I see you got a visit from the flower fairy." Buffy nodded in the direction of the research table where Anya's roses had pride of place.

"That's another myth, there are no flower fairies. A deliveryman brought them from the florist's."

"Ohhh-kay. If Xander does come tonight though, I think it might be as well if I move them out of his way just the same. I think Spike's not one of his favourite people right now… or ever, actually."

"No, he's not." Anya shrugged, expressing her lack of comprehension.

"There's something to do with Spike I need to talk to you about. I have this idea… which, with a bit of help, might become a plan…" Buffy told Anya about the course of action she'd been contemplating, getting Anya's assessment of the situation before she went too far in her planning. Once the two had hashed out some details Buffy headed for the training room and Anya set about making some notes.

* * * * *

Spike prowled around his hotel room. He was barely managing to hold together. The only reason the room furnishings weren't in pieces was his fear of being ejected into the sunlight. The bottle of scotch he and Giles had bought two nights previously had barely outlasted Giles' last visit. Now a sea of miniature bottles surrounded the waste-paper bin and three had even landed within its confines.

He had made light of his argument with Giles when he had spoken to Buffy on the phone, or perhaps it was more correct to say that being on the phone with Buffy had distracted him from how he felt about the argument. The morning had dawned clear and bright and being confined to a smallish room for the duration of the daylight hours was giving him too much time to think. He had tried to read. He had picked up a paperback copy of the works of Oscar Wilde. He stopped reading just after he got to the point where the villainess in "An Ideal Husband" remarked "Morality is simply the attitude we adopt towards people whom we personally dislike." Instead of falling asleep with the sunrise he was just beginning his solo drinking in earnest. 

Frustration at the watcher's superior attitude boiled through the blood in his veins filling his cold body with an illusion of heat. Frustration also, at himself and at the slayer for what she had made him. Free at last of the chip he should have been once more in a world where no one dare look down on him. Before the chip, even his grandsire had finally given him the grudging respect of a worthy opponent, be it hidden beneath threats and vampiric posturing. Only when Buffy had had him confined to a wheel chair, did Angelus dare revert to treating him to the scorn derision and torture that were the normal lot of a fledgling or minion.

Before the slayer, Dru had shown him affection and such devotion as her feeble state would allow. For twelve decades they had known happiness together, or such a dream of happiness that he had been fooled, never having known the real thing. In retrospect, it seemed to him as if those years had been spent in a state of euphoria induced by passion, violence and unstoppable adrenaline. Buffy had shattered that illusion of happiness. She let loose the demon in leather pants that was Angelus. She did so at a time when injuries received at her hands prevented him from defending his claim to his dark goddess. Then when his feelings toward his queen had been tainted by her preference for "daddy" the bitch had stolen into his very being and planted the seeds of this corruption that was killing him.

For a century, fear and respect had been no more than his due him as one of an elite few to kill a slayer, and when he had killed his second he had become paramount within that elite group. Human or demon, any who disrespected him had died. Thanks to her, he was treated as less than a man by a bloody librarian who was so far behind the times it had taken a new millennium for him to abandon his tweed suits that must have last been fashionable around the time he'd been born.

Every moment of humiliation and emotional pain he had endured over the last half-decade had her as the cause, direct or indirect. Picking up the photograph of the Summers women from the spot on top of the bedside cabinet that had been its home whenever he was in the room, he pulled out his lighter and lit the bottom corner. Tilting the image this way and that until the flames threatened to scorch his trembling fingers, he dropped the remains into his already overflowing ashtray.

Stripping off quickly, dropping the expensive clothes wherever they fell, he walked into the shower and began to wash the dye from his hair. He had deliberately chosen a temporary colorant and for the first few rinses the water came away brown. Still, he rinsed and rinsed at it. When he had used up the travel size bottle of shampoo the hotel supplied, he started using the shower gel and finally the miniature bar of soap. Unable to see the effect of his ablutions, he scrubbed and rinsed obsessively. He'd had enough of hiding. If anyone wanted to come get themselves a piece then they'd better be a damn good shot with a crossbow, because if they came closer than that he'd teach them a lesson they'd never forget.

He pulled on jeans and a black T-shirt followed by socks and boots. He put gel in his hair and combed it through, feeling to make sure that his hair's natural curls had been tamed into his usual style. Grabbing one of the hooded tops he had bought he draped it over his arm so that a single layer of material covered his hand. He moved over beside the window and thrust his arm through between the curtain and the glass, standing there for several minutes before he was content that the material offered sufficient protection from the sun. He pulled on the top, zipping it tightly and pulling the hood as far forward as he could. He grabbed his wallet and pushed it into the front pocket of his jeans and then picked up his phone unplugging it from the charger. His hand was three quarters of the way to his pocket when it reversed direction smashing the front face of the phone into the corner of the desk, before letting it drop to the floor.

Pulling his suit jacket from the floor he reached into the pocket and removed the piece of paper with Quentin Travers address on. He pulled all the clothes from his duffle bag before throwing in the scrap of paper and zipping it shut. When he picked it up it made a heavy metallic clinking sound. He slung it over his shoulder and left the room. Head down, hands in his pockets he headed out looking for trouble.

* * * * *

Giles had already been feeling guilty by the end of his conversation with Buffy. The slayer had been inquisitive, and finally challenging, trying to find out what Spike and her Watcher had argued about.

"Do you know what he told me to tell you last time I saw him? He gave me little messages for everyone. I didn't pass them on, because I knew if he made it through everything, he would be embarrassed about showing his feelings. Do you know what he told me to say to you? He said, "Tell the old Watcher it might not have been too bad if I had been Randy, except that I'd never have forgiven him for the name." Do you have any idea what that means in Spike-speak. That means he would have liked you to have been his father. That means that he respects you. If it doesn't actually mean he already loves you then it means that he at least thought it might be possible some day. Is it getting through to you what your opinion means to this man?

He's having a hard time. I've been an absolute bitch, so much so that I'm only just realising how badly he gets treated by all of us in general. He has two friends in this entire world as far as I can tell; maybe three but I've never met the third one. His best friend is my kid sister and I've been pretty much keeping the pair of them apart until very recently. His only other friend in Sunnydale is this weird looking floppy eared demon that he plays poker with. And let me tell you the demon's nicer than most of us have been. Spike's changed and if we don't take that on board and give him the support he needs to keep changing for the better, we'll have ourselves to blame if he does go back to his old ways. Whatever you two argued about I want it sorted out. I love you and… well, I miss him. We'll have to get him back before I'll commit myself any further, but I need you two to be okay together."

Then he'd had a visitor at work. Veronica Macallister had searched out his office in the lower reaches of the Council headquarters. She'd passed over a thick manila folder to him. 

"Will asked me to see that you received a copy of this. My thesis is at the front, followed by copies of the supporting documentation and references. Then there are some pieces that I've done more recently at the back. You will find that a lot of the later work is based on your own diary submissions.

There are a few missing pages and some words have been blacked out before I copied them. You could put in a request and get to see the original, but since the only thing missing are the references to his family name, I hope you'll leave it at what you have there. He said he hasn't used the family name since he was turned, that his vampire exploits have never been associated with those he once loved and he prefers that it remain that way."

She had then quickly excused herself saying she needed to get back before Quentin missed her.

Giles had been surprised at the contents of the file. Where he'd looked at the records of Spike's vampire career as a catalogue of horror, the young female watcher had looked behind the deeds and tried to analyse the motives behind the actions. Phrases seemed to leap out at him.

"William disproves the popular supposition that only a human's memories remain when he is turned, not his emotions. The theory that a demon merely sets up shop in the human body is inconsistent with the evidence suggested by an examination of the known details of this vampire's unlife." 

__

"Whilst only the vampire himself can say whether he was in love with her William undoubtedly displayed affection for and intense loyalty to Drusilla. His gentleness and tenderness towards her are commented upon in diverse sources."

"Angelus would torture many of his victims, physically and psychologically. William would not have gained acceptance within the family group had he shown himself squeamish about the suffering of others. However whereas Angelus seemed to view torture as a pastime, William seemed to regard it as a weapon to be used when necessary or appropriate, preferring to rely on his consort's gifts."

"His tenderness to his lover, was often seen as potential weakness. This is possibly what forced him to indulge in such savagery in other areas. Certainly the kudos he received after killing his first slayer greatly aided his acceptance as an equal or near-equal member of the "Scourge" and enhanced the reputation of the group as a whole."

"William was born too late. He had the spirit, if not the literary ability of a Renaissance man."

"In those days when entailment was the norm, William had the misfortune to be a younger son of a younger son. He therefore had the social obligations of one born of good family without the finances necessary to truly hold his own in the society he kept. Unless he were to marry extremely well, it is doubtful he would ever have been truly accepted in his social circle and William was too much the romantic to consider marrying for money.

The normal careers for younger sons at the time were either the army or the clergy. William was deemed too delicate both in spirit and body to join the army. It would seem that his study of ancient languages (Ancient Greek, Latin and Hebrew plus others) may have been some sort of compromise between himself and his family so that if he failed in his endeavour to pursue a scholarly career, the clergy would remain an option."

"Despite his fearsome reputation, the primary role William had for over a century and one he seemed happy in, was that of carer. Although at times there was more than ample opportunity to delegate Drusilla's care to others, he always took an active part in tending to her needs, and was said to understand her even at her least lucid."

"From what was said at the time of our visit to Sunnydale, my feeling on the matter is that the vampire, even then, had feelings for the slayer. I find it far more likely that this is what led to his co-operation with her and her helpers rather than it being anything to do with the chip. Since the "demise" of Angelus no vampire has openly declared themselves master of the Hellmouth. I contend that at least part of the reason for this is that any vampire wishing to do so would have to prove themselves against the dominant resident vampire i.e. William. Therefore it stands to reason, that even chipped, if he so chose, he could rule the Hellmouth. He is more than capable of keeping the rest of the vampire population in line and could easily circumvent the chip by having others do any actual killing for him. 

Instead he fought alongside the slayer until her death and has since continued to aid her Watcher and her friends in controlling the threat from the Hellmouth. At the time of our visit he appeared to be caught once again on the fringes of the society he sought to be a part of, trying to hide the true motives for his actions behind lies about monetary payment and payment in blood. The group as a whole it seems do not class him as a member. There was never any attempt made to have him attend when the slayer was being tested, although all the others did. However they make use of him when they find it expedient.

It is debatable, even with the levels of witchcraft being used, whether the Hellmouth would be tenable without his help. He is a warrior who was the equal to Buffy Summers, widely acknowledged as the most successful slayer in living memory. With the incumbent slayer incarcerated, his continued co-operation is important if not vital. If he were human we would not expect him to continue indefinitely in what appears to be a thankless task. Let us hope for all our sakes that vampiric patience and devotion outlast Faith, or that he can truly be accepted as part of the group, otherwise it is my opinion that the Hellmouth will fall before a new slayer is called." 

Giles was amazed that the other watcher had been able to glean so much from the highly edited version of events he had sent to the council. Out of respect for Buffy's privacy he had kept many of the details of what had happened between the pair secret. It was also clear that the female watcher had over-romanticised Spike's past and was quite possibly infatuated with him. Even bearing that in mind, there was a great deal of truth in what she said. He had yet to read the most recent parts of the file when the mobile phone Spike had given him began to ring.

"Spike?"

"No, Angel. What's going on with you and him?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary. Do you have some sort of problem?"

"The Powers That Be seem to think we have. What were the pair of you arguing about?"

"For goodness sake, it was nothing that important, Spike just had a tantrum about not being appreciated. He said something about, it didn't matter what he did he'd never be good enough for us." Giles picked up a slight echo on the line. "Have you got this call going through a speaker?"

"Yes, I have. If five of us including my baby son have got to be up at three o'clock in the morning because of your stupidity, then we're all going to hear the conversation. So what was your reply to Spike's tantrum." Angel filled the last word with a cold anger. "No doubt, you reassured him that he was a valued member of the team, I'm sure."

"No, I told him that I appreciated that he had changed, but that since he was already talking about killing someone-."

"Who?"

"Quentin Travers?"

"Why him?"

Giles sighed. "It was Quentin who hired the Order of Taraka."

"So Spike wanted to kill him, so that the Tarakans would be called off. That just sounds like self defence to me, but I take it you had a problem with that?"

"Yes, well I told him if he was already talking about killing someone then we couldn't take it for granted he would be able to control himself without the chip. I said he was sort of like a reformed alcoholic, that everything would be sort of a day at a time."

Lorne interrupted taking the phone before Angel could reply.

"Let me just check that I've got this straight here. Spike tells you he has issues about being trusted and accepted. You imply that he is worth less than some watcher who wants to kill him presumably on no other basis than the fact that this guy is human. You then tell him that you ain't ever goin' to trust him, in fact you will be waiting every day for him to fail. No wonder the guy's flipped. With friends like you who needs enemies."

"I have not, nor will I ever claim to be Spike's friend."

"You can say that again, honey." Angel retrieved the phone from Lorne who turned to address the former watcher in the group. "No wonder you quit that lot, Wesley, seems to me they're all on the wrong side."

"Do you have any idea what you have done?"

"Look here! I don't have to sit here and listen to this sort of abuse."

Angel's voice was cold and hard and he put a deliberate pause at the end of every sentence. "Yes, Giles, you do. You made this mess and you're the only one who can get there in time to fix it. Spike was supposed to get that chip out. Before we even looked for a doctor, we had his aura read and that was okay, but I didn't want to leave it at that. I went to ask the Powers. They told me the chip had served its purpose, that it was time for it to go. Spike is supposed to play some part in the days to come. That, it would appear is now in jeopardy, because of you.

Cordelia had a vision. With Wesley's help we had already decided it was Travers' house in the country. If you don't get there in time to stop him Spike is going to go all "Serpent and the Rainbow" on your boss when he gets home tonight."

""Serpent and the Rainbow"?"

"Let's just say that he'll find himself nailed to a wooden chair and it won't be by his hands.

Giles, you better do this. There are times when I could kill Spike myself, and God knows he can irritate the life out of you, but he is family. For the first time in a hundred years we're back on the same side. If I lose him again because of you…"

"Wouldn't it be simpler just to warn Travers?"

"Yes, it would, but you seem to be missing the point of the vision. Cordelia wasn't getting Travers' pain or fear or whatever. She was getting Spike's frustration and anger and confusion. The Powers aren't interested in saving Travers. They're interested in you stopping Spike before he does something he can't recover from.

Besides if you tell Travers that Spike is going to be waiting in his home, he'll just saturate the place with assassins. You may as well stake him yourself."

Angel put the phone down before Giles could respond further. As far as he was concerned everything that needed saying had been said. Further conversation would just be a waste of time. 

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End of chapter 18


	19. Chapter 19

**In the Name of Love**

By Tales of Spike

Spoilers: Story started just prior to As You Were and runs through to the end of Hells Bells. From there on the story goes AU, so Normal Again, Entropy etc. haven't happened and won't.

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Disclaimer: I own nothing. Joss and his friends own everything and everyone.

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A/N: I got a bit ahead of myself in last chapter or one before. For this to work, assume that Buffy's visit to 'The Magic Box' took place first thing in the morning, not towards the end of the day. Keeping track of this time difference is a bitch. Whose idea was it to have ball shaped planets, and all this curvature of the earth and time zones crap anyway?

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Feedback: I'd really like feedback, I get all insecure without it and start to think no one's reading this crap I produce, so bring it on at Sandy.Osborne@blueyonder.co.uk.

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Chapter 19 

Giles picked up the phone on his desk and dialled the number for Quentin Travers office.

* * * * *

Back in Los Angeles a sombre group discussed the situation.

Cordelia was the first to speak up. "I don't get this whole thing. Surely if the Powers said it was time for the chip to come out then we shouldn't be getting with the freaky visions."

"I don't get it either." Lorne replied. "When I read him, it was plain as day that he loves those two girls. He'd do anything for them, so why would he lose it, when he's so close to having a chance at what he wants? And why didn't I pick up on there being anything wrong with him before we packed him up and sent him off to England."

"I could give you a theory." Everyone looked over to where Angel gently bounced Connor up and down in his arms. Angel tried to work out how to put into words the idea that was in his head.

"When I lost my soul back in Sunnydale, I basically lost any control I had over the demon. The feelings I had for Buffy were totally alien to it. They made me feel human, so when the demon was in the driving seat, I did everything I could to destroy Buffy, to destroy the feelings I had for her. Anything to free the demon from the feeling of humanity. Without a soul, my demon basically has anything in me that was ever human beat.

Spike is a totally different animal. Always has been. Maybe when he was turned, his demon was never that strong. Dru was never exactly going to be the best sire. More likely, William was just too damn stubborn to lie down and let the demon win. Dru said something about Spike's worth lying in his head and his heart. That was why she turned him. William was a good man. He was quiet, painfully shy, overly sensitive, a total romantic. No one except Dru would have looked at him and seen a potential master vampire. If I'd had a use for him I might have turned him and kept him around like Spike did with that guy Dalton. It can be handy to have someone around that's a bit bookish, but you wouldn't make him strong. Only Dru would have looked at him and seen a potential mate and I only let her because Darla was fed up of her being around all the time. I'd had enough of looking after her, so if she wanted her own man and if William was the one she wanted then I just thought let her get on with it.

I don't think Spike's demon has ever totally been in control. There has always been a lot of William in Spike if you know what you're looking for. Spike has always… I don't know whether he has more control over his demon than I have over mine, or whether they've reached some sort of accommodation between the demon and who he used to be. I do know Spike has always worked to keep whatever makes him feel human. He smokes, he drinks and he eats human food even stuff with garlic in it. He reads. He watches TV. He listens to music; goes to gigs. He'll do anything that makes him feel more human. He'd even rather endure constant emotional pain, than block it out and lose the ability to feel.

Back in the day, if anyone other than us hurt him then, he'd absorb the pain into himself, and then he'd kill the person who caused it, normally messily. That was his catharsis. If it was one of us, he'd go in for some sort of self-mutilation. He couldn't free himself from the pain by killing us. Darla and I were a lot stronger than he was, at least to begin with, and he doted on Dru from the minute she turned him. He'd punch walls, mirrors, cut himself, whatever it took until he could use the physical pain to distract away from the emotional pain. It was as if by healing the physical scars, he healed the emotional ones with them.

He refused to harden himself to the pain. I'd lay bets he still cries when he reads poetry…

I'd also lay odds that since he's had that chip he's had a lot of self-inflicted injuries. Everybody puts up mental barriers. They condition themselves so that the more abuse they take, the less it hurts, they toughen themselves up. Everybody except Spike, he's never let himself. For a hundred and twenty years he's fought to keep what was left of his humanity. He won't often let it show that he's been hurt, but he won't allow himself to become inured to the pain either. While he was chipped, in a way I think it would make it easier. There was no one except himself that he could hurt. Now, he's like a child lashing out when something hurts him, but for the first time he's going to regret what happens afterwards.

The thing is, if I'm right, it's that same way of holding on to all the human baggage that means he can do this whole "good" thing without having a soul. 

I think, he should be able to learn to control it. It never came up after the operation because the only contact he had was with Lorne. Emotionally, that's probably the least hostile environment you could find. Even when we were setting up for him going to England, Cordy and I are the only ones with issues. Cordy stayed away while he was around and I guess I came to terms with the fact I've probably done far worse to him over the years than he's done to me. Like I told Giles regardless of the past we're family. You heard Lorne say how Spike is going to interpret what Giles has been saying. Under the circumstances I think what's happened is understandable, but if Giles can't stop him in time, Spike won't be able to forgive himself, especially if it costs him..."

"… if it costs him his chance with Buffy." Lorne finished for him.

"Buffy?!?! What is it with her and all the cute dead guys?"

'_Cute?_' thought Angel, his smile reaching a new level of radiance_. 'I think Cordy just called me cute!_'

* * * * *

Spike passed his room keys to the clerk at the reception desk.

"Thank you, sir. Is everything to your satisfaction?" When Spike found himself appraising the male clerk to see if the question was less innocent than it might first seem, he knew that the demon was exerting more influence than normal. As long as things didn't go any further than looking, he really couldn't bring himself to care. His appetite currently ran to vengeance and any other desires he or his demon might have came a very poor second. He knew that he was really angrier with the watcher whom he'd once hoped to call his friend, but that would keep. First he'd deal with the one who threatened his life.

"Yeah, everything's fine and dandy. I have to go out for a couple of hours, but I'm going to need a car later on. I was wondering whether the hotel had an agreement with any of the car rental firms. I'd like to rent a car or actually a something like an escort van might be even better. I'll need it for a day and I wondered if it would be possible to have it dropped off and picked up at the car park downstairs."

"I don't think we normally offer that sort of service, sir, but I could make some phone calls and see if something can be arranged."

"Thank you." Spike pulled a fifty-pound note from his wallet. "That should compensate you for your troubles, and these should cover any reasonable deposit and the rental." He pulled out several more bills. "I'll need a receipt from the rental company for my expenses. I'll be back in an hour or two and if you can I'd like it to be ready then. If you have a-." Spike had been about to give the clerk his mobile number in case he had any difficulty making the arrangements, but then remembered his actions in the room. "If you have any problems I'll see you when I get back. Will you still be on duty?" Spike made a mental note of the name shown on the man's nametag. Apparently he was an assistant manager.

"I'll probably be in my office," he indicated a door behind him. "I'm just covering for a break, but if you ask the person on the desk, they'll fetch me. I'm probably going to need you to leave your driving licence here as well, they'll need to see it when they drop off the car."

"Good point." Spike found the relevant forgery in one of the side pockets of his bag. "Oh, if there are any options on the insurance, go for the most comprehensive. As I say, something like an escort van would be ideal, but nothing smaller, and in the unlikely event that you can get something with tinted windows, that would be good. Thanks again."

Spike pushed his hands into his pockets and headed out through the hotel's revolving door. By the time he had walked as far as the small neighbourhood super market. The receptionist had come back from her break, allowing the assistant manager to return to his office. By the time he had selected several rolls of tin foil, three bottles of Jack Daniels and combed the shelves top to bottom in an abortive search for duct tape, Giles was on the phone to the hotel.

"No," the receptionist replied, looking at the key for Spike's room resting in its cubby-hole. "I'm afraid he's not in at the moment. Would you like to leave a message?"

"Do you know when he's expected back, at all?"

"I'm sorry, someone else must have been on duty when he left, and he hasn't left any messages."

"I'll try again later on then, rather than leave a message. Thank you."

'Damn it all!' thought the watcher. 'Why do I get stuck with trying to find the one vampire that would be out and about in the midday sun?'

Giles decided it was time he called in at the hotel. 

It took Spike just under an hour to find a shop that did sell duct tape. Since the shop in question was two doors up from a small dark looking pub, that appeared to be a free house, he decided to postpone his return to the hotel, long enough to see if he could get a pint of decent beer and a sandwich.

"Hello, I wonder if you can help me?" Giles spoke to the receptionist. Technically it was his lunch-break, but he didn't think he would be returning to work somehow. "I don't know if you remember, but I stayed here a couple of nights ago in the room next to my son's. I think I may have dropped my mobile phone when I was in his room. I've tried ringing it, but I think the battery has gone flat. I rang here a little while ago, but he was out. Since I was passing, I thought I would see if it was okay to check his room?"

"Which room number is your son in, sir? And do you have any identification?"

Giles pulled a couple of bank cards from his wallet, saying a silent prayer of thanks that Spike had been perverse enough to get all his false documentation under the alias William Randolph Giles. "He's in Room 216 and I was in Room 215, but I'm sure that my room was empty when I left so it must be in his room."

The girl skimmed through the register until she found the relevant bookings and checked them against Giles' ID. She looked intently at Giles, trying to spot a family resemblance. Unsurprisingly, she remembered Spike. She thought there was perhaps a vague similarity in their bone-structures, but then Giles' cheekbones wouldn't look quite so pronounced given that he was carrying a fair amount of extra weight compared with his "son".

"I'll just be a moment, sir." She knocked on the door marked "Duty manager" appearing to discuss the matter with someone in the room. When the girl came back out she pulled Spike's room key from the rack. She was followed by a young man who took over from her on the desk. She moved round the counter and resumed her conversation with Giles. "I'm afraid we can't let you go up to the room without someone to accompany you, but if you can give me a detailed description of the phone before we get to the room then we can have a look for it together." The pair moved over to the lift.

Giles was soon looking round Spike's room. "We never used to be able to get him to tidy his room when he was a little boy either," he joked when the receptionist opened the door. Giles knew that mere hours before the room had been perfectly tidy. He quickly took in the smashed phone, the empty bottles and the remains of the photograph in the ashtray. Giles was pleased that he had made the decision to ring Quentin's office. 

He had considered tracking down Spike and then getting Buffy to speak to him over the phone, but the photograph if nothing else showed that Spike was currently not his normal self. Knowing how cutting some of his remarks could be, Giles was glad that his final plan meant Buffy wouldn't have to speak to him. If the two were becoming as close as it might appear, it just meant that Spike would be better equipped to hurt her. If he'd felt compelled to burn her picture who could even make a guess as to what he might say if he were put in contact with her.

Spike entered the reception area of the hotel, noticing the assistant manager from before was back on the desk. He smiled as he saw Spike approaching, and opening the door behind him he picked up an envelope from the shelf next to the door.

"There you go, sir. The keys, your licence, the insurance documents and your receipt are in there. The firm doesn't actually do deliveries and pick-ups, but we sent a couple of the porters down to get it, and they'll take it back tomorrow. Opening the envelope, Spike saw that they had actually managed to get a small van like he'd asked for and that his change was also in the envelope. He pulled out a couple of ten pound notes. 

"When they get back from dropping it off tomorrow give them that."

He was just about to head for the garage when he noticed the key to his room was missing from the rack. He immediately tensed suspecting that somehow the Tarakans might have found out where he was; though he was unsure as to how they might have done so. Taking a deep breath he checked to see if he could pick up any non-human scent trails. When he was rewarded with a faint residue of Giles' cologne he relaxed again and headed for the garage. 

It didn't bother him that the watcher was in his room, although some tiny part of him was briefly concerned as to what he might say to Buffy, but this was soon swamped by the knowledge that it didn't matter anyway. So what if he'd cornered her into saying they might have a chance. As soon as she decently could she'd make some excuse to dump him. She wouldn't be able to cope with the watcher and monkey-boy both telling her she was sick. If she hadn't already changed her mind before he got back, it would be a miracle. This is the little chit who'll shag you blind for six hours and then go crawlin' to her ex, callin' you worse than muck, sayin' that you're too stupid, too incompetent to do anything but be her bloody fuck-toy. The watcher could tell her whatever the fuck he wanted to. The bint's goin' to ditch you faster than you could bring up a donner kebab that you'd washed down with a bad pint. And it probably wouldn't be a prettier sight to see neither.

Before he knew it he had reached the van and he quickly taped foil to the windows, leaving just a small strip to see out of and another couple of small holes which let him use the wing mirrors. He pulled a London A-Z out of his duffle bag and planned his route, getting out of the city centre traffic and onto the ring roads and motorways as quickly as possible. He'd never seen Giles' new car so he paid no attention to the black BMW sitting near the car park entrance, or to its occupant.

Giles made a show of noticing the phone lying on the floor. Picking it up he examined the damage. "I must have left it on the floor and he's stood on it." Giles placed the totally ruined phone on the desk. "Oh well, no point crying over spilt milk. I'll just leave a message for him to give me a ring." Giles found some of the hotel stationery and left a note for Spike to ring him as soon as possible. Then he returned to the hotel foyer with the receptionist where he was surprised at the greeting he received.

"Mr Giles. I hadn't realised it was you that Elaine was talking about or I would have got your son to wait for you. You've only just missed him. He just left about five minutes ago."

"Did he say where he was going?"

"No, just that he needed to hire a car or a van for a day. I'm sure he'll get in touch when he gets back."

"I'm sure he will." Giles replied in a grim voice.

From the way that the manager had worded his reply, Giles imagined that he had left on foot to find a car hire franchise, rather than leaving in his own transport. So instead of rushing to the garage where he might have caught Spike as he masked off the van windows, he mouthed platitudes to make the staff feel better about not getting him to stay. It was between five and ten minutes later that he returned to his car.

"We just missed him."

"So what do we do now?"

"There's no choice. He's on his way to the house. There's practically no chance of picking him up on the way. We'll just have to head that way and wait."

* * * * *

Spike had had no problem finding Travers' house. It was remarkably easy, in fact. It was one of those huge rambling houses situated just outside a small village. The sort of place you knew would once have been the home of a local lord or squire or something. A single-track road led from the village itself to the house. Spike had parked so that he had an unrestricted view from the rear windows of the van down that road, whilst at the same time being one of a number of vehicles lining the street. Only someone looking closely would wonder about the tinfoil obscuring the van windows. He planned to wait until he saw Travers arrive back from "the office" and then drive the van down the lane, turn it ready in case he needed to make a quick retreat and park so that he was blocking the driveway. Travers wouldn't be able to get away by car and if an alarm were raised then the police would be delayed getting to the house. 

Spike wished he'd thought to pick up a pair of binoculars, but he'd been out of practice for too long to think of it. Instead he checked over the contents of his bag laying them out on the floor of the van. Aside from the duct tape left over from doing the windows, he had a tin of lighter fluid, some strips cut from an old cotton sheet, a crow bar, several "spikes" and a sledgehammer. A pair of handcuffs, some manacles with chains, some lengths of leather thong, a bundle of plastic cable ties and a small selection of knives, which nevertheless covered the range from scalpel to cleaver completed his range of accessories. He looked over the things he had laid out and tried to think of anything which might be missing. Okay, so he hadn't gone as far as Angel's chainsaw idea, but there was enough there to do the job. He opened the first of the bottles of JD and waited.

* * * * *

"So, what do you think he'll do? Will he go straight to the house or will he find somewhere and watch for him?" Giles asked the watcher in the car's passenger seat.

"I'd been led to believe that you were working with him for a fairly extended period of time. Shouldn't you be the one second guessing his strategy?"

"Yes, quite, I thought Council records might have had something to say on the subject."

"On this particular subject all we have are descriptions of the bodies."

"Are you saying that there are no records of anyone surviving… "interrogation""

"If anyone did they had more sense than to mention it to anybody. Besides, from the bodies that were found killing them would have been the kind thing to do."

"But, it was Spike who intervened when Angelus was going to…" Giles tailed off.

"Yes, but _you_ hadn't given Will any reason to want you to suffer. Why are you so sure that Will wants to kill Quentin?"

"Let's just say that I have inside information."

The BMW pulled to a halt at the edge of the village-square. 

"Let's take a walk. See if we can see anything without tipping him off. Do you know if there's likely to be anyone else at the house?"

"He has a gardener who works a couple of days a week, but I don't know which days and his housekeeper will probably be there about now, but she'll be gone before he gets home. She normally leaves a casserole or something for him, so that he just needs to heat it up."

"In that case perhaps we should make this a brief walk. I wouldn't like to think about Spike keeping some poor old dear tied up while we're out for a stroll. I trust you're wearing a cross and you have a stake on you somewhere."

"I do, but I doubt that I'm likely to need them."

"From what he'd done to his room, I wouldn't be too confident."

Giles mobile made the small double beep that intimated he'd been sent a text message. "What now?" Giles muttered under his breath, as he tried to open and read the message whilst maintaining his sedate walking pace.

__

"Hi G. Sps fn off. Cn u pas on plan. Anya sez QT dun enuf for ven dem. Cud send to alt real? A sez best dem cald Fernak. Words for summ to cum next mess. Buffy."

It took Giles some time to make the necessary adjustment to his brain patterns to decipher the mangled almost English of Buffy's message. Giles wondered if sending a summoning ritual via transatlantic text message would have the same effect as saying it out loud. He hoped not. Releasing one demon into the Internet had been bad enough. He wouldn't like to explain how he came to be involved in a second similar event.

He passed the phone to Ronnie. It looks like we have some good news anyway. 

"Why don't we see if you think that means the same in English as I do?"

"Hi Giles. Spike's phone is off. Can you pass on plan? Anya says Quentin has done enough for a vengeance demon? He could be sent to an alternate reality? Anya says the best demon is called Fernak. Words for the summoning ritual to come in next message. Buffy. 

What exactly is it that Quentin is supposed to have done?" Ronnie passed the phone back to Giles. Almost as soon as Giles had cleared the first message from the screen, the double beep sounded again.

"I hope she hasn't butchered the words for the ritual like she did that last message.

The evidence would suggest that Quentin set up a ploy to kill Spike and discredit his efforts to turn over a new leaf. When that failed, he then appears to have hired the Order of Taraka to kill him instead."

"Oh dear Lord." Ronnie unknowingly mimicked the man walking alongside her. "Quentin got me to research them. I gave him the information on how to contact them."

The two had been moving gradually from the centre of the village toward Travers home.

"He's here. He's watching the road to the house. Giles pointed toward a white van in the middle distance."

"How do you know?"

"The windows. He did the same thing with the van we took when we tried to outrun Glory.

I suppose we'd best go pass on Buffy's message."

The pair walked on until they drew level with the van. At this point Giles rapped sharply on the roof of the van with the flat of his hand and Ronnie moved round to the rear of the van so that she could be seen in the limited field of view which the gaps in the foil afforded.

Spike almost hit his head on the roof of the van when the sound echoed through the rear of the van. Then he saw Ronnie and flung open one of the van's rear doors.

"What the hell are you doin' here, woman?"

"Someone gave me a lift. He seemed to think you might listen rather than hit first if it was me talking."

"So is he going to show himself, or is he just going to hide round the corner in the sunshine?"

Giles moved round the side of the van until he came into view.

Spike slid sideways towards the front of the van. "Well, are you two going to get in and shut the door or do you plan to be standing there for our friend to see when he comes home?"

Giles hesitated, unsure as to whether he wanted to join Spike in a confined space when the tone of his voice was so much colder than was normal.

In contrast Ronnie took a seat on the floor of the van and then swung her legs around into the vehicle. This done she slid along until she sat next to Spike. Her easiness with the vampire made Giles wonder if she actually knew about Spike's chip being removed but now didn't seem like a good time to bring the subject up. Out of Giles' line of sight, Ronnie took Spike's hand in hers and gave it a quick squeeze. Spike looked over at her in surprise at the supportive gesture, his eyes mirroring his confusion but he didn't pull his hand away.

Giles finally stepped into the back of the van, crouching over until he could get into a sitting position by the doors with his back to the opposite wall from Ronnie and Spike. 

Spike pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and flipping the top open pulled one out with his lips rather than take his hand away from the woman beside him. The pack returned to his pocket and he brought out his lighter, flipping it open and igniting it one-handed. He inhaled deeply as he closed the lighter and put it away and then exhaled slowly through his nose.

"So, Rupert, what's with the search party. I thought you'd said your piece earlier." His voice was icy cool, but his gaze didn't meet the watcher's eyes.

Spike was all too aware that his eyes often showed his emotions. Right now he wasn't sure what he was feeling and he was damned if he wanted the watcher to work it out before he did. He desperately wanted to punch the older watcher but the confines of the van would have made it rather awkward and he wasn't sure he wanted to do it in front of Ronnie. Funny, considering she was a watcher, but she was probably, apart from Lorne, the only person who had simply accepted that if he wanted to, he would make a go of things without the chip. Not only that, part of him knew that he'd goaded Giles' to be honest. If he couldn't live with Giles' answer then that was him being a wanker, not the watcher's fault.

Giles looked over at the vampire in the corner, deciding confrontation was the best course of action. "I was just in the process of revising the opinion I gave you this morning for various reasons, when I got a phone call this morning." Giles voice was also on the cold emotionless side. "I didn't want to believe what was said, but when I saw your hotel room I knew they were right." Giles made sure he had the vampire's gaze before he continued. "You did the one thing I never thought you would. You just quit. Things get a bit hard-." Spike's fist collided with Giles' jaw, knocking his head back against the side of the van. Spike was now lying almost full length along the length of the van. Ronnie had barely managed to pull her legs out of the way as Spike had launched himself from one end of the van to the other in a low dive.

Giles reached down and pinned the prone vampire by his neck. Spike tried to bring his superior strength to bear to remove the arm, but Giles arm was locked in position and Spike couldn't get the leverage to break the hold. He struggled unsuccessfully to land a kick, but the roof of the van wasn't high enough to let him bring his foot up and round.

"You don't like being told that do you? That's what you've done, though, isn't it? You know that's it if you do what you're planning, but you were going to go ahead. Since when did you let anyone tell you that you weren't good enough for anything? You say you love her, but you just give up on her. Well she didn't quit on you. If you'd even waited a few hours you would have found out that she worked out a plan for you, but you just couldn't bear the thought of sticking around for the long haul. Figured it would be better just to give up now and get it over quick."

Gradually, as more of what Giles was saying sank in, Spike's struggles weakened and finally stopped altogether. Giles released his hold. Spike stayed in his position on the floor, his eyes closed trying to process the jumble of emotions inside himself. The frustration and rage seemed to have melted away. Regret and horror at how close he'd come to ruining everything came close behind. He felt once again a small hand taking his and over a period of minutes he became enveloped in a feeling of comfort.

"Look, I'm sorry about what I said this morning. I meant it when I said I never thought you'd quit. I think that means I've got more confidence in you than I realised."

For a long time, Spike just lay where he was, not moving until he felt back in control. Finally he gave Ronnie's hand a squeeze before letting it drop and sitting up.

"Sorry, Giles. How's the jaw?"

"I'm sure it's fine. It may be slightly discoloured by tomorrow, but I'm sure I'll live."

"Did you say Buffy has a plan." Spike looked round the floor of the van, finding his cigarette almost burnt down to the butt. He picked it up and used it to light a fresh one before stubbing it out on the floor of the van. "Does it cover getting information out of Travers before we don't kill him?"

"No, but if he's neutralised then do we need information?"

"We do if he's holding potentially embarrassing photographs, or what if he's not alone in this? Not to mention the fact that I for one would like to actually know why someone I've never met wants me dead."

Giles remained silent.

"I guess I'm still going to need my tool-bag then. Seems to me since we're all here now we may as well settle this tonight…"

****

End of chapter 19


	20. Chapter 20

**In the Name of Love**

By Tales of Spike

Spoilers: Story started just prior to As You Were and runs through to the end of Hells Bells. From there on the story goes AU, so Normal Again, Entropy etc. haven't happened and won't.

****

Disclaimer: Okay, they're back by semi-popular demand.

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Voice off (Sounds like A S Head): Previously on "Silly Disclaimers"

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Buffy: …Joss made up all the people we know… he set up a production company called Mutant Enemy… they sold it to Fox and UPN and everybody else.

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Spike: … My theory is this Joss wanker is going through some sort of depression and it's feeding through to all the things that are happening round here… I reckon that a bit of "Slayer lovin'" would do wonders to improve the emotional inadequacy of this… guy.

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Faith: Dear Spike, …I guess your plan might work… One question, how do I actually hook up with this guy?

Cue title music (Okay, imagine I asked my friends who are in a band, and have actually sold a number of albums in four figures to do some music, 'cos that's the only way we'd get any. That means it's sort of synth, guitar, electro stuff. Check out Face of Tears at Athamay.com or mp3.com/athamay, but if you lied about your age to read this don't listen to their other songs, cos they have rude lyrics. Jess is a perv.) 

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The Magic Box, A Scooby Meeting.

Spike: We have to do this and we have to do it soon.

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Xander: What's in it for you?

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Spike: Bloody hell! I know it's probably habit by now, but right this minute Joss and his team of wankers are not in charge of the words coming out of your mouth. Just for once make an effort not to be a total git. And in answer to your question it's not what it's who. (Removes utterly hideous looking hat from Buffy's head and throws it into bin before deigning to be seen in public holding her hand.) And if you've got anything to say about it just remember if you say it here we know its you who's really saying it.

(Xander opens his mouth to say something, but sees the glare that Anya is giving him and wisely, for once, closes it again.)

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Buffy: Hey. That hat cost hard-earned money.

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Spike: Then you should probably have looked in a mirror before you bought it. That hat belongs on an eighty year old granny in Swindon 'cos it would go so well with her tartan shopping trolley.

(Buffy pulls her hand away from Spike's and punches him hard on the nose before going to sit on the steps to the loft, pouting)

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Willow: I've been checking this out on the Internet. I can only seem to pick up his plans a couple of weeks ahead, but if we don't stop him you four are going to find your love-lives in tatters, a bit like mine and Tara's already are. There's rumours about someone dying too, and it looks like it's another permanent one.

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Spike: Okay. Now you know what we're up against. I've thought about this and if we bring this guy Joss here, other than the fact that everybody except me could gang up and kick the crap out of him, I don't think it would achieve much 'cos he'd just be a pleb, like us. (Buffy pouts more.) Okay, Slayer you're not a pleb, in this case the world does revolve around you and it's even named after you. Happy? (Buffy smiles. Spike smirks.) Bet I get more fan mail though.

Anyway what we have to do is transport Faith to the reality where Joss is so that she can find him and shag him senseless. Glinda, is there a way to do that, and can we do it without breaking Faith out of prison first?

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Tara: We should be able to do it. We need something personal to him, but then everything in this universe is his, so that's okay. We should be able to locate him. I think I should be able to do some sort of portal but we'll have to research it. Depending what spells we can find we might need to get her out, we might not.

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Spike: Okay, those who can read, hit the books. Harris, you start planning a prison breakout just in case and remember someone's life depends on it.

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Feedback: I'd really like feedback, I get all insecure without it and start to think no one's reading this crap I produce, so bring it on at Sandy.Osborne@blueyonder.co.uk.

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Chapter 20

Spike moved round to a position where he could again watch the road leading to Travers house. "Why don't you tell me the details of this plan of Buffy's. I'll tell you what I've got in my bag of tricks. Ronnie if you can tell us anything about his habits… When he gets home? Does he have a dog? Do you know anything about his security system? Does he know that the two of you are together? Where does he think you are? …all that sort of stuff and then we can come up with an over all strategy… Especially one little detail, how are we going to get him to ask me in?"

Ronnie smiled over at the vampire. "I thought you knew. That place isn't just Quentin's house. If the London offices of the council were equivalent to 10 Downing Street, then that place would be the equivalent of Checkers. It's sort of a public building or it's supposed to be. Quentin's worked fairly hard discouraging anyone else from using the place. Any member of the council in good standing, could invite you in. I think that even includes Mr Giles here. The only place you wouldn't be able to enter without his permission is Quentin's bedroom and if he were there I'm sure Mr Giles would be pleased to persuade him to leave it.

It was almost an hour and a half later when Spike saw the Bentley turn down onto the road to Travers' house. The housekeeper had left some time before and they were almost certain that Travers would be in the house alone. They let the car disappear from sight, giving Travers half an hour to reach the house, open up and settle in before Giles started the van. It was still light out and would be for another couple of hours at least, so Spike pulled up the hood on his top and made sure all of his flesh would be covered. Then, he turned to Ronnie putting the handcuffs on her and locking them with the key so that the ratchets couldn't get tighter and start cutting into her wrists.

He dropped one of the pair of keys into her bottom jacket pocket and got her to check that she could reach it. "Not like you should need it, pet, but if I was letting some vampire I barely knew handcuff me, I think I'd feel a bit better if I had a key." Giles brought the van round in a U-turn and parked it at a slight angle to the road so that even using the verges there wasn't enough space on either side for a vehicle to pass. He took the keys out of the ignition and passed them to Ronnie, on the basis that both he and Spike were capable of hot-wiring the van if need be.

Giles got out of the van and walked around to the door on Ronnie's side, opening it and following her towards the back door of the house. The door was unlocked and Giles moved back to the corner of the building where he could be seen from the van and signalled to Spike. The vampire threw open the rear door of the van and hurried head down to where the two watchers waited before the trio entered the house.

Spike moved ahead, listening for any sounds that would tell him where Travers was in the house. The faint burble of running water led him up the broad staircase to the first floor. A smirk crossed his face when the sound of running water ceased, only to be replaced by splashing noises and a slightly off-key voice singing, "I am the very model of a modern major-general." Spike wasn't surprised when the door to the bathroom was open. Who would bother to lock it or even shut it when they're in a house on their own, or they think they are? Spike couldn't contain an evil grin as he saw the look of surprise and outrage on Travers face. He threw a towel from the rack in the direction of the central portion of the bath. "Cover yourself up, Quentin. We've got a lady present. We might need to torture her later if you don't decide to talk, but I prefer to stick to physical rather than mental cruelty. Isn't that right Giles?"

Giles moved forward so he could be seen the room's doorway, his tight grip on Ronnie's upper arm obvious. "I do think that the sight of Quentin's naked body could be the cause of unnecessary emotional trauma." Giles cast a disparaging look in the direction of the quivering mound of milk-pale flesh occupying the bath. Spike leaned over pulling the chain to which the plug was attached draining the tub. "Why don't you stand up, nice and slowly and keep that towel where it is so that Miss Macallister doesn't get any nasty surprises?" Whilst Travers struggled to lever his overweight form upright, Spike cast a look about the room. Seeing a robe hanging on the door he checked the pockets before handing it to the watcher. "Here, put this on. It'll make you feel less… vulnerable." A brief hint of a smile crossed Giles' face and Spike wondered whether he'd actually picked up on the reference. He realised he could almost imagine a younger Giles in a basque and suspenders at a Rocky Horror. He doubted it would ever have been Quentin's cup of tea though.

Once Travers was safely covered by the robe, Spike held onto his upper arm as the group moved downstairs where Spike led them into a sitting room. "Miss Macallister." Still holding Travers with his left hand, Spike gestured towards a wooden chair next to an escritoire in the corner. Giles escorted her over and when she was seated in the chair Spike pulled the bundle of cable ties from his bag and threw them across the room to Giles. Giles threaded one around both the handcuffs' chain and the bars of the chair back before tightening it. 

"Okay, Quentin, I'm quite sure that somewhere in this delightful pile you're bound to have a video camera. I'd be ever so obliged if you'd show me where it is." Quentin showed some signs of hesitation. "I – I."

Spike cut him off abruptly. "Quentin, you really don't want me to start hurting you before we get to the difficult questions. Is it in this room? Just nod or shake your head." 

"You can't hurt me. Y-You can't hurt anyone, not humans."

"Dear, dear, Quentin. You should keep up to date. You don't think it really took this long to find out who was behind your little schemes, did you? That only took a couple of days. The rest of the time was taken up by a bit of surgery and recuperation." Spike tightened his grip on Travers' arm for effect. "I can hurt anyone I want, so I'd advise you to co-operate. Besides even if I couldn't from what I've heard you haven't done Rupert over there any favours over the years. So, this room?" 

The watcher nodded and pointed in the direction of a sideboard. "Very good, Quentin, I believe you're getting the idea. Giles, now that you've made Miss Macallister comfortable could you see if you can find another hard chair in the dining room for Quentin here, one with arms if possible."

"I'm sure that can be arranged."

Giles quickly returned with the chair, and Spike secured the eldest watcher to the chair using cable-ties at his wrists, elbows and ankles. The chair was positioned so that Travers' back was facing Ronnie and Spike made sure Travers couldn't see her in any of the mirrors either. While, Spike took care of that, Giles found not only a video camera but a tripod for it as well. He checked that it was working and had a tape in. Once that was done, he passed it to Spike who then proceeded to find an appropriate position to get the field of vision he wanted. 

"Right, Quentin, I'm sure you'd like some ground rules. Rule number one is don't lie. Rule number two is don't hesitate because then I might think you're trying to think of a lie. Rule number three is apart from me I want no names given as to who else is here. It won't help you. It just means I'll have to edit the tape and that would make me cranky."

Spike started the tape rolling. Quentin watched as Spike pulled a small table over next to the chair, where it could be seen on camera. He then proceeded to slowly and methodically lay out on the table the contents of his bag. Meantime Giles removed Ronnie's handcuffs and they both took a seat out of Travers line of sight.

Spike gave the old watcher plenty of time to take in the range of implements. He lit a cigarette and smoked it half way down before he spoke again.

"You remember our rules, don't you Quentin?" Spike crouched next to the camera, so that both had approximately the same view.

"Yes."

"Here's an extra one, face this direction when you're answering my questions, okay."

Travers nodded.

"We'll start with some nice simple ones to warm you up. Just yes or no answers, but it's better if you say it rather than nodding, okay?"

"Yes."

"Your name is Quentin Travers, yes or no?"

"Yes."

"You are the head of a group known as the watchers council."

"Yes."

"See, isn't this nice and simple. Some time over the last couple of years you managed to lay your hands on a contract I had signed a few years ago, is that correct?"

Travers shifted in his seat, as he answered, "No."

Spike rose from his position and treated Travers to a hard backhanded slap. "What was rule number one?"

"Don't lie."

"That's right. Now every time you break the rules the punishment is going to get a little bit worse." He returned to his position and resumed his close watch on the older man. Eyes the colour of the deepest ocean stared into Travers' soul.

"It's round about this time that if I thought you were a real man or any sort of gentleman at all that I would start work on our lady friend, but, see I don't think you are, so I'll save that for a last resort for the moment.

Now, I repeat at some point over the last couple of years you got a hold of a contract that I had signed some years ago."

"Yes."

"The contents of the contract were basically such that in exchange for services received, I would on demand pay the bearer of the contract a sum of money or perform such services as were required of me providing they weren't deemed to be too inherently dangerous. Failing to comply with the terms of the contract would result in a penalty clause coming into play. Is that correct?"

Travers paused before answering in the affirmative.

Again Spike gave him a backhanded slap. "Now, I didn't make that worse because even though you hesitated you did tell the truth in the end but remember you shouldn't need to hesitate. It's all yes or no stuff. It's very simple just tell the truth."

"You arranged to use this contract to put me in a situation where I would almost certainly die. Yes or no?"

"No." For a second Spike was stunned. He'd seen no indication that the man was lying. Slowly a lopsided smile formed on Spike's face. "Very clever. Let me rephrase the question. You arranged, using this contract to put me in a situation where I would almost certainly cease to be undead. Yes or no?"

"Yes."

"Let us assume for now that when I'm talking about my death, I am not talking about dying as a human but rather dying as a vampire, becoming a big pile of dust, that sort of death.

Was my death, the main aim behind your use of the contract?"

"Yes."

"Was it the only aim of using the contract?"

"No."

"What else were you hoping to achieve? Were you trying to create a rift between myself and Buffy?"

"Yes."

"I think you should elaborate on this a bit, Quentin."

"We thought even if you weren't killed, that the slayer wouldn't trust you any more."

"But you had people following me or her or both. You were aware that the slayer's life was also potentially in danger. Yes or no?"

Travers again hesitated. "Yes or no, Quentin?"

"Yes."

"If she had died, would this have upset you?"

"Well, em…"

"Okay, If Buffy had died, would that have been in line with your long term goals?" Spike watched Travers face intently, but also watched for any telltale body language.

Travers' eyes flicked up and to the right, and even as he answered, "no", Spike's left fist hit him squarely on the nose hard enough to tip the chair over on its back and Travers' head hit the floor with a thump. Spike heard "You bastard!" from Giles' corner of the room. Before Travers had a chance to recover from the punch, Spike moved round blocking his view of Giles and Ronnie and righted the chair once more.

"Did you know, Quentin, that when you access the creative centre within the brain, your eyes automatically move up and to the right. Now that's why you're looking into the camera over here and I'm making sure I don't block the shot. That way everyone can tell when you're lying. Do you have plans that involve Buffy's death?"

"Yes."

"Do you want a slayer that you can manipulate more easily?"

"Yes."

"And to do that you would kill me, Buffy and Faith?"

"Yes." Up to the point where Spike had punched him Travers' answers had seemed almost resigned, now they were becoming increasingly defiant as if he now considered himself beyond hope, and felt free to show his hatred and malice.

"Earlier, you said, "We thought even if you weren't killed." Who else is involved?"

Travers was silent.

Spike picked up a couple of lengths of thonging from the table. He pulled the cap from the only remaining bottle of Jack Daniels and dangled the leather strips into the bourbon. "I would normally use water but this is here and I'm sure it'll work just as well, possibly even faster." Once the leather pieces had soaked for a minute or so Spike removed them from the bottle, stretching them before tying them tightly, one around each of Travers' wrists. "As they dry out they'll tighten. At first it'll be like pins and needles but eventually they'll cut into your flesh."

"Okay, Quentin, that contract you used doesn't belong to you. It doesn't even belong to the watcher's council. Did the real owner know you were going to use it?"

"Yes." Travers eyes had once more shifted right and upwards despite his efforts to prevent it.

"Tut, tut, tut. Wrong again." Spike picked up one of the pieces of cloth and balled it up before sticking it in Travers mouth and putting duct tape over the top. "We'll just leave that leather to tighten up a bit. In the mean time I think I'll have a word with our other hostage. It would seem like you're actually innocent in all this." Spike didn't move from his spot in front of Travers. "Quentin, here, would rather lay the blame on you than any of his real buddies though. Maybe you can make a guess or two as to who would be involved in something like that."

"Arthur Wyndham-Price." The head watcher didn't seem to react and Spike was quite relieved given the current holder of the contract.

"George Ellis." Travers' eyes flickered for a second.

"Maybe Prajan Khan." Again, the flicker.

"Alright, pet, we could be here all night. It looks like there's a few of them."

Spike pulled the tape from Travers' mouth and removed the gag.

"Where are the photographs? You had two sets of surveillance photographs taken of Buffy and myself at different times and you also paid someone to take photos of your other guest. Where are they?"

He hesitated again but then seemed to change his mind. "Master bedroom. Top drawer. Bedside cabinet." Spike did not want to think about why the photographs were there. "Perhaps if you let the young lady loose she could retrieve them. I trust her not to do more than what's necessary to identify hers and mine."

"Are those the only copies?"

"Yes, I think so." Again he was telling the truth.

"Other than making it easier to get to Buffy were there any other reasons for trying to kill me?"

"Yes."

"Could it be anything to do with the fact that the council and possibly you in particular aren't keen on moral grey areas. You'd much prefer it if you could say council good, vampire bad wouldn't you? That's why you wanted it to look like I'd gone bad, isn't it? You could start fresh with some kid and have her stake anything that doesn't have a heartbeat?

"Yes."

"The longer I stick around helping out the harder it's going to be for you to do that. Well, let's say I plan to keep it up long after you're gone. You don't much like the idea of me and the slayer as a couple either, do you?

"No."

"And you don't like the fact that the girl you're perving over is interested in me, even if there's no chance she'd be interested in some old codger three times her age even if I was out of the picture."

"No."

"I think we're almost done here. If the right circumstances arose were you actually going to use the default clause, assuming you could."

"Yes."

Spike's eyes gleamed gold and his brow ridges came down in less time than it took for the punch to land. 

"For those viewers who don't know what you just admitted to. The default clause demands the death of the three people I care most for probably by magical means. So to make their job of getting Buffy out of the way easier, they would take the lives of two innocents. One of them is a fifteen year old kid, and the other is probably the most genuinely nice person you're ever likely to meet; a white-witch who's never done anything but good in her life. Is that the case?"

"Yes, though I'm forced to accept your character judgement not actually knowing the girl in question."

"I think I've run out of questions here." Spike pulled a piece of paper from his jeans pocket. He then began reading from it

"I, William the Bloody, seek vengeance against those who have wronged me and mine. Fernak heed my bidding and dispense justice."

Spike and Travers, both stared somewhat aghast at the figure that appeared before them.

"I thought all you vengeance demons was bints," said Spike.

The figure in front of Spike had dark curly hair spilling down to his shoulders and held away from his face with a gold circlet. Falling to just above the knee, he wore something Spike knew was a toga, but he still wanted to call it a dress. Instead of a pendant he wore a medallion.

"It is true that very few of us are male, but bint is not a term I would use about vengeance demons on the whole, assuming you are aware of its literal meaning." 

Spike had the good grace to look shame-faced even though it was impossible to blush. "No, s'pose not, mate."

"You seek vengeance?"

"Yeah, I wish Quentin Travers and all his knowing accomplices in his misdeeds against me and those I love would…"

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End of chapter 20


	21. Chapter 21

**In the Name of Love**

By Tales of Spike

Spoilers: Story started just prior to As You Were and runs through to the end of Hells Bells. From there on the story goes AU, so Normal Again, Entropy etc. haven't happened and won't.

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Dedication: Who wrote such a nice review for the chapters up to chapter 20 that I decided just to post the rest for her.

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Disclaimer: 

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Training room, The Magic Box, Cloth, crystals, string etc. all lain out as if for locator spell but on a larger scale. A small sack in the corner of the room seems to be moving on its own until a kitten's head appears from it. 

Tara: Right, we have the spell, but before we break Faith out of jail, we're going do a trial run. We'll make the portal and we should be able to see where it comes out.

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Spike: So, we see where Faith'll be goin' but do we send someone through and if we do can we get them back.

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Willow: We don't know how to get someone back. We could open the portal again but because time seems to flow differently in different dimensions, say we wait a day here it might be a minute there, or it could be variable. I mean this Joss guy, the one who owns everybody, he could spend a week writing about stuff that takes place over a two day period in April and then just skip the next three weeks and start writing about something that happens in May. There's no predictability at all. Time might not even run in the same direction in both realities all the time. What if he decided he knew what he wanted to happen at the end and then filled in the bits in the middle? And does it become our reality when he writes it, or when this Mutant Enemy production company film it, or is it when UPN transmits it because that's when it enters the public consciousness?

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Spike: When did this go all Stephen Hawking. I thought it was just, send Faith, Faith shags manic depressive, he cheers up, we get to have lives again.

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Willow: We can hope. Anyway, we thought we might try sending, say one of your poker kittens through. At least that way we can check it works.

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Spike: That was meant to be my breakfast. I didn't bring'em for you to chuck through portals at some bloke what's muckin' up our lives… Second thoughts, go ahead, with any luck it'll shit on his carpets.

(Spike goes over to the sack in the corner, picking up each of the three kittens he has with him one by one, talking baby talk to them. Tara follows him over.)

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Tara: Spike, what are you doing?

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Spike: (He's stopped the baby talk and is now holding a little ginger kitten, that seems to be trying to stroke Spike's nose with it's front paw.) Well, I kinda thought, if I'm going to eat two of them, and then we're sending the other one to him, then maybe we ought to send the cutest one so I was just working out which one I thought it was.

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Tara: Yeah, you wouldn't want to eat the cute one. 

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Spike: Well, what did you think happened to that first kitten you had?

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Tara: We only had one kitten.

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Spike: Nah, you din't, had two. They were both black and white but they'd diff'rent markings, pet. See I borrowed the first one, but I lost her and by the time I was back ahead of the game she was already some demon's supper so I just stuck her collar on a different one. You really didn't notice? But then, I don't think the second one was around very long.

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Tara: Shh! You know Willow gets sensitive when you mention her spells going wrong. She just wanted to **meet** Atomic Kitten. 

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Disclaimer 2: Nope, I didn't make up what Spike is singing. It's a song called "Vengeance" by New Model Army.

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Feedback: I'd really like feedback, I get all insecure without it and start to think no one's reading this crap I produce, so bring it on at Sandy.Osborne@blueyonder.co.uk.

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Chapter 21

"… I wish Quentin Travers and all his knowing accomplices in his misdeeds, against me and those I love, would be permanently transported to an alternate reality where they can live out the rest of their natural lives in safety but they will be unable to harm any other sentient beings either directly or indirectly," Spike read from the notes he'd made on the piece of paper. "And if they all have to wear pink tutus from now till the day they die that would be a bonus," he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for the other demon, but not the humans to hear.

"Done," replied Fernak as his face took on that veiny look. 

Spike looked at the chair where Travers had been sitting. All that remained to show he'd been there were six cable ties two loops of leather thonging and a white terry-towelling bathrobe. Spike lifted the bathrobe and raised an eyebrow.

"Well, he'll have other clothes to wear where he's gone," said the vengeance demon.

Spike smiled and started singing to himself under his breath. "I believe in justice, I believe in vengeance, I believe in gettin' the bastard, gettin' the bastard, gettin' the bastard…"

In comparison with the equivalent facility in our reality the demons in charge run a benign regime. All the inmates are well fed and looked after. They are allowed out of their cells for a daily exercise period and those who are able are encouraged to take part in group activities. In an effort to make them feel at home, when replacement clothing is necessary the keepers duplicate the inmate's original clothing as closely as possible. All the facilities inmates are allowed to live out their natural life spans and no-one even thinks about hacking bits off of them to make cyborgs. Whilst life here is considerably more pleasant than in the facility once run by the Initiative, it is also far more secure. There has never been a successful escape attempt.

For some reason all six new inmates just appeared one evening in the facilities holding cells. They were all wearing tutus in different shades of pink. All have been subjected to behaviour modifying surgery. As a comparative study three have been fitted with the latest behaviour modifying microchips. The other three, (Quentin Travers and his two lawyers) have been subjected to the more traditional pacifying technique known as frontal lobotomy.

"Okay, I reckon if we get a move on and I can get back to the hotel, grab the rest of my stuff and if you'll give me a lift to Heathrow I can get a plane as far as New York tonight. I should get away with booking in late as long as I've only got hand luggage."

"Don't you have to get another coffin and go freight?

"Nah, flying east this time. It's still slightly dodgy but I'll risk it. I can get on a plane leaving here at half eight at night local time and be in New York just after eleven at night there. Tomorrow I leave New York about eight and get to LA just after eleven. It's okay when the time zones are working for you. Just a pity I can't see a way to do it all in one night using the commercial flights.

Let's move it people. I'd really like to be home tomorrow."

Spike shoved all the tools back in his bag, removed the tape from the video camera passing it to Giles. "Right, as promised no permanent injuries, no dead bodies. I take it you can sort out getting copies of that to the council and it's my guess Ronnie knows how to get a copy to the Tarakans." He moved quickly toward the van. "Ronnie, pet, I don't suppose you'd consider letting me clear off that contract, so that I don't have to worry about it hanging over my head any more?"

"I might, if I can have the document back, wherever it is."

"Well, funnily enough I happen to know just the person who's looking after it. I'm sure when they've finished their research you could have it back, provided it has "discharged in full" written across it. What'd you rather have, cash or services?"

Ronnie laughed. "What kind of services are you offering?"

"Nothing that would have the slayer sticking a stake through my heart."

"In that case I'll stick with the money."

"You think that'll be worth your while?"

"I know it. I did a little exercise once where I worked out how much it would cost to hold one of those little bashes you used to throw for Drusilla every so often. I'll take my chances."

"Christ, I don't even want to know the number you came up with. Never dared work it out at the time so don't tell me now."

"Then of course there would be the houses. Assuming the ones where the deeds are in a woman's name went to Drusilla that would mean she got Lisbon, Moscow, Athens, Rome and Boston. That still leaves you London, Paris and New York but then I've only traced back over the last sixty-five years so far, so there may be more."

"Leave a man some secrets, pet. Yeah, there's another one in my name in Florence, the rest are all in Dru's. I'll sort out the valuations and get back to you with a figure."

"If you have a house in London, why were you staying at a hotel?" Giles asked.

"For one thing, anyone could do what I assume Ronnie here did and check the land registry on places where we've stayed before. For another thing, I don't think the tenants would be overly impressed."

"Tenants?"

"Yeah, don't think it would do the places much good to be sitting empty. Look, you thought I was skint, turns out one of your number's been a bit less inclined to make assumptions, and she's been doin' the math. Get over it.

Just out of interest how much did it cost you to lay hands on a tenth of everything I own?"

"Translated into sterling, about two hundred and twenty pounds."

"Bloody hell!" Spike gave a lop-sided smile. "I suppose if someone's got to make a profit I'd as soon it was you."

* * * * *

Despite the fact that The Magic Box had closed its doors to the public several hours before, it currently seemed almost as busy as it did at peak trading hours. None of the assembled Scoobies could bring themselves to settle at the normal table. Anya, Buffy and Dawn were nervous about Xander's appearance or lack thereof. Tara and Willow were just nervous around each other. As a result Anya was flitting round the store with a duster and the others were doing impressions of browsing customers. Of course, when Dawn started wandering round the shop picking up things and looking at them, first Buffy's browsing and then Anya's dusting began to follow the same route.

"Jeez, would you two stop checking out my every move. I was just looking." Dawn moped off in the direction of the table, which was still decorated by the vase of yellow roses. She pulled out a chair and sprawled across it, lying back as far as she could without falling off, arms folded, legs wide. So it turned out she was the first to see Xander come through the door.

His head was slightly bowed and his movements were hesitant, as if he was unsure of his welcome, which was, of course, the case. 

"Hey." The greeting was downbeat and non-committal. He looked round the room with a hangdog expression, nodding a greeting to the women present. 

Anya moved over to the counter picking up the vase on the way. Everyone else headed for the table where Dawn waited. She glared at Xander as he sat down. "Okay." Buffy tried to find a place to start. "Dawn'll do the important bit later. I guess I get to do the pre-show. You probably all know or have guessed bits of what I'm going to say. I don't think anybody knows the full story.

Since I came back, I haven't really been comfortable round most of you. For months, I didn't feel right. I haven't been able to open up and I've kept secrets from all of you. At first I talked to Spike, but I… I took advantage of how he feels about me. I… I needed comfort and I took it from him. He thought it was the start of a relationship, but it was more like the end. I blackmailed him. I told him that if he told anyone about us I would stake him. I stopped talking to him. He tried to send me away when he realised what it was going to be like, tried to say if he couldn't have all of me that he didn't want the crumbs. I didn't see or didn't care what I did to him."

The group stared at her. Xander's mouth was hanging open. "Bu- Bu…"

"I'm not finished. It went on for months. I haven't been coping very well and whenever things got too much, I'd go to him. I'd used him as a release mechanism and then just to make sure he wouldn't think it was anything other than physical I'd sling a few insults his way and leave him. Every time he tried to tell me he cared about me I'd tell him he couldn't. It wasn't real. He didn't have a soul so he couldn't feel anything and if he did it wasn't love.

I beat him to a pulp, and told him I would never be his girl, that he was evil and without a soul there could never be anything good inside him." Buffy caught Dawn's eye and gave her a rueful smile. "The black eye he had at my birthday party, that was what still showed after a week of vampire healing. He tried to stop me going to the police and when I started hitting him instead of taking the time to explain why I had to do it, he let me. He didn't hit back. He didn't even defend himself and I left him for dead in an alley with three hours to go before the sun came up. I never even spoke to him till he turned up at the party. Never even checked whether he made it out of the sun.

And when Riley came to town, I never even bothered to get his side of the story. I just got on my high horse and broke off the whole thing. Turns out the only reason he got tricked into having those eggs was that he was trying to protect some of us. 

So I guess you're all wondering by now what's the point of telling you this now. 

I want you all to know that he's basically the innocent party in all of this. He's never done anything except be there when I've needed him on whatever terms I've forced him to accept. He didn't want to hide what was going on. That was me.

I've treated him really badly, but when I've thought about it, so have most of the rest of you. He's always treated like an outsider unless we need him. I think he's more than earned the right to be treated like a member of the team and it's time he was. I know that part of the reason he's been excluded in the past was to spare my feelings but as of now, I'd like him to be given the same consideration you'd give me or Willow or Xander or any of the rest of you. And that still stands whether we manage to make things work when he gets back or not. I'm not saying this because he's going to be my boyfriend; I'm saying it because I think he's proven himself. Has anybody got any objections?"

Buffy looked across at Xander expecting him to be the first and most vocal opponent.

"Buffy, he may have spent a year or so helping us, but he spent far longer trying to kill us. I just don't think he can be trusted. He's a demon. That means he's inherently evil. That isn't going to change."

Behind him Anya looked at him as though her heart were breaking. Xander just seemed to refuse to see the inconsistencies in his logic. He never even seemed to notice that half of his words could equally well be applied to his ex-fiancée.

"Yes, he is a demon. His basic nature is to do evil, but just look at what he's done in the last year. He hasn't killed anyone. He's patrolled with me day in day out since I got back. He's spurned by his own kind and belittled and insulted by you and by me but he's still done nothing but help me, look after my sister and help you all defend the Hellmouth when I wasn't here. If he can do that when we're all against him imagine what he can do with our support.

While he was away he had the chip removed."

Apart from Dawn, the rest of the group looked shocked, but Buffy continued without giving them a chance to interrupt. "It was a matter of necessity. I think in the long term he's always wanted to do it, but circumstances meant he was at risk if he didn't have it done straight away. It's going to be a hard adjustment for him. Xander, if you persist in pushing his buttons then don't be surprised when you get unpleasant results. To be honest, I think you've been… You've acted like a bully for three years now, knowing he couldn't do anything about it. I think he's due some payback or an apology."

"So apart from the fact he's evil and he's dead you also want us to overlook the fact he can hurt us. You want us to overlook the fact you'll be sharing your bed with a thing that will rip your throat out the second his control slips."

"Xander, since I came back he could have done that any time he wanted. Tara says the differences are minute, but the chip didn't recognise me as human. He going to need our help. He's way too proud to ask so I'm asking for him before he gets back. If we want him to overcome his basic nature then we have to be supportive, no more "evil dead, you're in my seat" cracks. I think it's a pretty long time since Spike's actually done anything evil. I'm not saying you have to be friends with him. I just wish you would be civil. Or at least stop being hostile."

"I don't really know any other way to be with someone I hate, but I'll try, only because I don't want to lose you, Buffy, but when it all ends in tears and it will, I'll be the first one to say I told you so." Xander's words seemed to offer a truce, but his expression was bitter.

"Anyone else got any problems about this while we're on the subject?"

Tara replied, "it does worry me a bit that he's got his chip out, but only a little. I think he'll be okay, but it might take a while not to act nervous around him."

"That's just the way things are. You can't help it and I think he'll understand if it takes a little while to adjust. If it helps when they wanted to force him into doing something they threatened the three people he cared most about. Dawn, me and you. I doubt you're in any danger.

I've said my piece. I think it's Dawn's turn now… Dawn."

Dawn looked round at the faces in the room, and then blurted out her news. "I don't know if I've got a soul. I didn't say anything before because I thought Buffy wouldn't be able to love me. She said all this stuff about Spike, and I thought it must apply to me as well. So it was only when she decided to give Spike a fair chance, soul or not, that I felt I could say anything. As things turned out it was Xander going on about Spike that made me tell both of them. I don't know if any of you can tell, or if we can research the spell the monks used to make me or whatever. If I don't have one, I need to know if there's a way to get one and I need to know what difference it would make to see if I'd want one."

"Oh, sweetie…"

"Dawn, you're human. You can't be human without a soul. What on earth would make you think you might not have one?" Willow asked.

"Well, you're a powerful wicca. If you wanted to and you were still practising, could you make a soul?"

"Er, no, but you were made by monks, holy people. They must understand how important a soul is. They wouldn't let you be soulless."

"Willing to make a bet?"

"Tara, is there any way you can tell by reading her aura?" Buffy asked.

"I'm sorry. It can tell you about emotions and about your health, but your soul… not as far as I know."

"Giles is sorting out where the council's research on Glory came from. He's going to see if he can find out anything about the spell that way. Other than that I don't know what else we can do. We pretty much know we don't have anything on the monks. Tara and Willow if you could try the spell books, maybe you might be able to find a spell they might have used or adapted. Anya, have you any books about orbs of Thessula, and how they work?"

Buffy turned to get a response from the store's proprietor, only to find she was no longer in her position behind the counter, or apparently anywhere else in the main shop.

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End of chapter 21


	22. Chapter 22

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In the Name of Love

By Tales of Spike

Spoilers: Story started just prior to As You Were and runs through to the end of Hells Bells. From there on the story goes AU, so Normal Again, Entropy etc. haven't happened and won't.

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Disclaimer: 

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The Bronze, Spike sits at a table on which there rests a large family of empty beer bottles. He is drinking from a slightly fuller one. Buffy enters and moves over to the table.

Spike: Slayer.

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Buffy: Bloodsucker. What's with the mini-brewery?

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Spike: Felt like a drink… That's all.

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Buffy: Yeah, right. And you're the new spokesperson for Coppertone. What gives?

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Spike: Witches did a trial run for sending Faith through. Don't think we can go ahead.

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Buffy: Can't go ahead. Why?

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Spike: Wiccas did the spell. Had a kitty all ready to go through. When the portal formed we couldn't see where it went. There was just a big flashing message. Magical version of a Times Square billboard.

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Buffy: Advertising what?

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Spike: Advertising Spike buggers it up again.

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Buffy: And this is news?

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Spike: Yeah, real funny. "Any attempts at intrusion in the life of Joss Whedon, creator of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, or any of the other owners of the TV series such as UPN, Mutant Enemy, Fox etc. may be deemed "actor fiction". As such this could result in the deletion of any stories in which such attempts are made." Glinda wouldn't even let us try putting the kitten through. No way we can try with Faith.

(Spike hold up his now empty bottle, waving it until he has attracted the barmaid's attention. Okay, he already had the barmaid's attention. She's female and het – so it goes without saying. She loads up a tray with another six bottles and brings it over. Spike flashes her a smile and watches Buffy's face cloud over. He pushes one of the bottles over to Buffy and gives her a dirty grin, tongue curled behind his upper teeth.)

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Spike: You goin' to get all hot 'n' bothered ev'ry time I smile at some bint, pet? Makes me go all warm inside when you're possessive.

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Buffy: Ha, like I'd want to possess you, and the only way you'd go all warm inside would be if someone stuck a red-hot poker up your- 

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Spike: Uh-huh, Slayer. Language. Besides I've got a whole drawer full of toys I bought for us to play with before we have to resort to pokers.

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Buffy: (Grabs Spike by the lapels of his duster, pulling him toward her.) Spike, you're a pig. (Kisses him slow and deep, making sure the barmaid gets to see.) … but at least for just now, till that Joss guy comes back and screws things up, you're my pig. 

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Feedback: I'd really like feedback, I get all insecure without it and start to think no one's reading this crap I produce, so bring it on at Sandy.Osborne@blueyonder.co.uk.

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Chapter 22

"Hey, don't look at me. I haven't done anything… lately."

"Sure," said Dawn. "Telling the woman who loves you that she's evil and untrustworthy pales into insignificance when you've already dumped her at the altar. I guess it's really nothing."

"I didn't say that. I said Spike was evil and untrustworthy."

Tara spoke quietly. "You said demons were evil and untrustworthy. I know you didn't mean to upset Anya, but you have." She moved over to the training room and checked to see if Anya was there. After a brief look round she shook her head. Buffy headed down to check out the basement.

"Anya's not a demon. She's an ex-demon. She's human now. She knows I didn't mean her."

"'Cos insulting who she was, is so much better than insulting who she is, and given your recent past, how does she know you don't mean it? In her shoes, I'd probably be wondering what I'd done to deserve it, so when you say, "demons can't be anything but evil and untrustworthy," then you can't blame her if she thinks that's part of why you ran out on her." Dawn leapt to the attack again. "If you had actually paid some attention when we asked you to lay off Spike then maybe you wouldn't have hurt Anya."

Xander rose from his seat. "I'm sick and tired of all you women not being able to see past a smile and some muscles. The guy is evil and he can spend every red cent he has on flowers," Xander picked up the vase from the counter and threw it against the wall, "and it won't change it, it just means he wants something."

"Since you ask, Xander, no, she isn't downstairs. If she left without locking up it looks like you really did it. I'm glad you're concerned and wanting to say sorry and make it up to her, instead of putting the blame on someone who isn't even here."

"Maybe we should call it a night," suggested Tara.

"Yeah, I think that would be for the best. Dawn, how 'bout you give me a hand tidying up." 

Buffy watched the others leave. Willow and Tara whispered together before Tara left and Willow came over to take Xander's hand, leading him away. He hesitated when he drew level with Buffy but then seemed to think better of it and kept going.

Buffy cleaned up the spilled water and pieces of broken glass while Dawn found an old coffee jar and set about rebuilding the arrangement. Before they left Buffy checked around the shop, making sure everything was as it should be and then locking up.

"What I don't get is how none of us saw or heard her leave. It's like she just vanished into thin air."

* * * * *

"It's a bit late to be paying house calls, isn't it, blondie?"

"Well, I might still catch her on her rounds."

"I'm guessing the introductions can wait till tomorrow."

"Yeah. Get some sleep. I'll get them to call over after school's out. See ya."

Spike closed the motel room door, and jogged over to the hire car parked outside, humming as he went.

__

"Every night I'm there, I'm always there, She knows I'm there and heaven knows, bam, I hope she goes, bam, bam, I find it hard to realise that love was in her eyes. It's dying now, bam, She knows I'm crying now, bam, bam, and every night I'm there, I break my heart to please, Eloise." Spike was still singing under his breath as he patrolled the cemetery where he had lived until recently. 

When he saw a young vampire running toward him, he didn't pause, if anything he sang louder, providing a soundtrack for the scuffle.

__

"Eloise. Ba ba-ba-ba ba ba ba baa, You know I'm on my knees, Ba ba-ba-ba ba ba ba baa, I said please. You're all I want so hear my prayer."

Even so, until his spinning kick landed squarely in the fledgling's solar plexus, doubling him over, he seemed oblivious to the elder vampire's presence. He was just straightening up after the first blow when Spike pulled a stake from his coat pocket and drove it into his heart. He headed in the direction his opponent had come from, his gait halfway between a Tigger-bounce and a strut. 

As he crested a slight rise he saw her, and as always the sight of her took away all thoughts of anything else. She was down to two opponents and Spike knew that his help would be superfluous, so he stood his ground and watched. 

"Couldn't you have told her what her butt looks like in spandex? Shame on you letting her come out like that."

The male vamp just shrugged and Spike flinched as she landed a punch on his nose. He knew all too well what it felt like to be on the receiving end of that. The girl moved in to attack Buffy from behind an received an elbow in her face for her troubles, closely followed by a back kick that shattered her kneecap and had her rolling on the ground.

Her boyfriend, a beefy type who topped Buffy by more than a foot, swung his fist round in an arc towards Buffy's head. She dropped below it, sweeping his feet out from under him with her left leg. As he fell over she launched forward and dusted him, regaining her feet immediately and facing off against the girl. She had made it back into a standing position but it was obvious she wasn't going to present much of a threat. One of her legs was dangling useless and she made a desperate attempt to hop out of Buffy's way. Buffy didn't even bother chasing her. She just hefted her stake and measured the throw. The point struck dead centre in her back and she exploded in a shower of dust.

Moving out of the shadows Spike clapped his hands together slowly but loudly. "Nice work, l-."

Buffy caught him off guard and he barely managed to block the first of a string of punches and kicks that she used to punctuate the conversation.

"Why. Didn't. You. Phone?"

"Giles was supposed to tell you. My phone's bust."

"Call. Box?"

"Thought you might find it a pleasant surprise." Spike swept Buffy's feet and held onto her as she fell so that they ended up rolling on the ground together. The fight became a wrestling match, each trying to pin the other to the ground.

"Me. Slayer. Surprises. Bad."

Spike smirked. "In that case…" He threw Buffy off to one side and flipped into a standing position. "… maybe I should leave before you die of shock." He began to back away from her, his eyes alight with laughter.

"Don't think you can get away that easy." Buffy executed the same flipping movement as Spike and launched herself at the vampire. Spike braced the lower half of his body against the nearest grave-marker and grabbed Buffy's right wrist as she impacted against him, preventing her punch from hitting its mark and then pulling her off balance. She found herself partially supported by his chest with her feet too far back to balance properly and unable to push herself upright because of Spike's grip on her arm.

"Ask nice, love, and I'll see you home." He let go of her wrist, but before she could react he grabbed her rear with both hands lifting her up till her eyes were level with his.

For two full seconds hazel eyes stared into sapphire blue. Then his emotions mirrored in the inky depths overpowered her and she wrapped herself around him like she would never let go. Her arms wrapped around his neck, fingers straying to tease the hairs at the base of his skull. Her legs swung around his waist and hooked over the top of the headstone he leant against. She shifted forward to allow the marker to take some of her weight, grinding his hips between her and the granite block.

She whispered in his ear before nibbling gently on his lobe. "Take me home." Her voice was husky and Spike was conscious of the waves of heat emanating from her core. The words seemed more euphemistic than literal and Spike knew he had to take control of the situation. He drew back until he could look into her face once more and stroked her hair back from her brow. In an effort to regain control of his own body he brought to mind the image of Quentin Travers in his bathtub. The more he concentrated, the more the discomfort caused by his tight jeans was eased. 

"Shh, pet. Shh. It's not time." He kissed her softly, open-mouthed but still almost chaste. "We've got the rest of our lives." He pictured rolls of fat turned strawberry pick in the steaming water and a torso sporting enough hair to make a medieval penitent's shirt.

"Spike? I need you." 

Spike was forced to think about the sight that he'd rapidly covered with a towel. Even so his voice was thick with emotion when he spoke.

"Slayer, we can't just make all the same mistakes all over again."

"Not. A. Mistake. Bloody. Revelation." This time she dropped kisses on his cheeks, brow and finally mouth.

"Right, pet. That's why you're always gone before the stains have time to dry on the sheets." He grabbed a handful of her hair using it to gently but forcefully pull her face away from his. He spoke softly. "I'm not going to let you treat me like a whore. We both deserve better than that." She was shocked at the ice-cold anger in his eyes and disentangled herself from him. 

She would have backed away from him, but he kept his hand tangled in her hair, forcing her to look into his eyes as the hostility in them melted away. He kissed her gently on the lips once more and this time she responded in kind. His hands moved to rest gently on her hips and she relaxed in his arms.

"I missed you, love."

"I missed you too… pest."

His chin came to rest on top of her head and for minutes or hours they stood, happy just to be together.

"Your roots are showing."

"Yeah? Needs cutting too, but I thought getting home was more important."

"It is, it was, whatever."

"Yeah, couldn't last any longer without my duster."

She landed a playful blow against his chest before taking his hand and leading him in the direction of the cemetery's entrance. "We'd better go fetch it then."

When they reached the car park Spike pulled Buffy toward his hire car, a large convertible.

"Another new car? Or have you been getting up to old tricks?"

"Hired it at the airport if you must know."

"And what happened to the last one. You know the one with my name on all the papers. I hope you didn't leave it in a no parking zone, 'cos if ya did you can pay the fines."

"Cute. I forged your signature. It's real easy. You should learn joined up writing, you know. It changed hands before I left for England. I've got a receipt somewhere if you need it for your taxes or whatever."

"I don't know. Do I?"

"Like I ever filled in a tax return."

Spike rummaged around in his jacket pockets till he came up with an envelope with Buffy's name on it. It looked like it had been in his jacket a while. 

"Is this your way of making me take some of your ill-gotten gains?"

"Might be." Spike smirked, vaulting over the door into the driver's seat. "Coming, pet?"

Buffy swung her legs over the side of the car sliding into the passenger seat. "Home, Jeeves."

Spike shook his head. "Jeeves was the butler not the chauffeur, pet."

Buffy stuck out her tongue at him. "Could be worse. Could have called you Giles."

"That's just nasty, love."

The car pulled up outside the slayer's house. Spike reached across and stroked Buffy's cheek with his thumb, before leaning in for a kiss.

"Home, safe and sound, like I promised."

"You… want to come in?"

"Not a good idea. We had one narrow escape tonight. Let's not push our luck."

"You think anything's going to happen if I don't want it to?"

"You think you can convince me that you don't want it?"

"Porch? Hot chocolate? Coat? Dawn if she's awake?"

"Yes to all of the above."

He jumped out of the car and while Buffy was still checking to make sure she had all her things, he slid across the car bonnet landing on his feet to open her door for her, his hand extended towards her.

Buffy snorted her amusement, but nevertheless took the proffered hand. "Showin' your age, old timer." They walked up the front path fingers still loosely entwined. Buffy pulled her hand free to search for her keys. 

"Meet you out back." She whispered so as not to wake the house's inhabitants. Before she could turn away, Spike pulled her to him and kissed her fiercely.

"Hurry back," he said turning the stunned slayer toward the door and patting her on the behind.

"Hey… Stop changing the rules, Billy."

Spike, lit a cigarette, and sat on the front porch thinking how lucky he was. He was waiting now for the point where he said or did the wrong thing and she'd slap him in the face and walk off immersed in a cloud of self-righteousness. Maybe he should have quit while he was ahead. That was when he heard the string of thumps that could only mean a teenager was running down the stairs. Five seconds later he could hear the locks on the back door being undone and Dawn threw herself into his arms. He couldn't remember standing up to greet her, but he held her tight in his arms and spun her round till she was laughing and breathless.

"You are such a doof, you know."

"Only round Summers women. It's some sort of genetic reaction." 

He put her down and looked at her properly for the first time. She was wearing his coat over the top of a very skimpy nightdress. Both of them looked pretty damn good on her. Spike groaned inwardly at the thought of trying to fend of hordes of teenage hormone bombs that were interested in his little girl.

"You grew again."

"That's what you get for staying away so long."

"Wasn't exactly by choice, Bit. You think I could willingly stay away from you two that long."

"How's it feel to be chipless, then?"

"Not much for small talk, are you? Really good but really bad and more than a bit scary. I nearly lost it in England. Ripper had to talk some sense into me but I'm dealing."

Dawn walked toward the back door.

"Keep me company while I make the drinks?"

"Guess I might as well." Spike took up a position leaning against the doorjamb, so that technically he wasn't smoking in the house. "What's takin' Big Sis so long? You got the coat. You're makin' the cocoa. What's she doin'?" 

"You'll see."

"How's the soul thing goin'?"

"Nowhere fast… We had a meeting last night. We'd just told everybody and were trying to work out what different people might be able to do and Buffy went to talk to Anya and she was gone. It looks like Xander upset her. He was being a bit of an ass. But after that things just sort of went kerplooey.

Willow went off with Xander when he left and we haven't seen either of them since. Buffy pulled a double shift at work, so with Willow gone I had to stay at Janice's till she got off, so no-one knows if Anya's okay now or not, because we only realised after she was gone last night that none of us know where she's staying."

"Speaking of staying…" Spike flicked a matchbook onto the counter by the stove. "I'm in room six. I want to see you after school tomorrow, preferably with Big Sis if she's not at work. There's someone I want you to meet."

"Hey, just because you helped rescue me from my last date doesn't mean you get to set me up."

"Would I dare be that presumptious? Besides I've no idea how old he is but I suspect it's too old for you. Just show up. You might get a pleasant surprise, but don't bring Janice. I really don't think he's her type."

"Well at least I know it's not Angel. You should know what age he is."

"You think I'd bring Angel anywhere near this house now that you're the same age Buffy was when he started stalkin' her, you can think again."

"Yeah, 'cos he'd never resist my wily charms. Buffy's the pretty one no-one even notices me."

"Shows what you know. By the time you've finished growin' you'll have her beat."

"Are you allowed to say that, what with being her boyfriend?"

"Em, probably not. What say you don't tell her? I don't suppose saying you're both gorgeous is going to get me off, even if it is true?"

"No, but I could settle for a hefty bribe."

"How about presents? I might have brought you back some stuff from England."

"Tell me more."

"Find out tomorrow."

Dawn poured out the hot chocolate, adding marshmallows to two of the three mugs. She was just rinsing the pan under the tap, when Buffy came charging downstairs having changed into a clean pair of jeans and a little vest top with spaghetti straps.

"You!" She pointed at Spike.

"What the hell am I meant to have done now, Slayer?"

"You gave that car away."

"Yeah. So… I figured it might buy me some leeway on the flowers."

"You gave away a three year old car."

"So. As long as no-ones rigged a bomb to it, I've got the De Soto. It's got more style than anything that came off a production line three years ago. It's a classic."

"Why do you do this to me? Every time I think I'm beginning to get you sussed you do something completely unexpected.

And I'll tell you something else. You didn't drop it off yourself, did you?"

"No, Peaches and Giles jnr. took it, but I don't see how the hell you could have known that?

What's your problem? It's a real place, or at least if it isn't, it's Soul Boy that's trying it on, not me. This was supposed to put you in a good mood, not get you all aggravated."

"Yeah, you already got me all aggravated tonight and then refused to do anything about it." Buffy sighed. "I think giving the car to the shelter is pretty cool. I'm just sort of mad at you for something you did four years ago."

"Bloody hell. How do you get from me giving away the car, to try and make you happy and to save you from having to pass any more of my filthy lucre through your account to you getting mad about something I did four years ago?"

"Because I know the girl who runs East Hills Teens Centre and she sent me a thank you note, and the first time I met her you were taking a chunk out of her neck."

"Well I obviously didn't make too good a job of it then."

"Only because I was going to stake Drusilla."

"Okay, so four years ago, I was a total git and I would have eaten your mate, but you stopped me. It's not news."

"And you turned my fifth grade crush."

"I keep my end when I make a deal. He was the one who sold you to me. Buffy this isn't news and judging by the fact that I never saw him again I suspect you corrected your earlier misjudgement and staked the wanker before he was even out of his grave. 

I figured that I should have quit earlier tonight, that sooner or later I'd do something to piss you off. I just never figured it would be something I did four years ago. I think I should go now."

"Uh-huhhhh," objected Dawn. "You haven't touched your hot chocolate and I can't have it now it's got monkey brains in it. Besides Buffy's just being bitchy because she's scared and doesn't want to admit you did good. Right, Buffy?"

Spike hesitated as he turned, looking across at Buffy. Was Dawn right, or were there just too many things in their combined past for them to get over?

Buffy reached out, grasping Spike's sleeve and pulling him back toward the house.

"Sort of. I mean, as a global thing I've kind of made peace with who you were, and I know you're different now, but when something like this brings it home that you did the things you did to people I know. It makes it real, and I want to yell at you and kick your ass till you're sorry.

It doesn't mean I feel any different about you like you are now." She smiled and let her eyes show a tenderness he never thought he'd see. "It just means… that Miss Smug is probably right and subconsciously I'd rather start a fight than admit that you doing stuff, like _giving away a car, _which I still can't get over, is liable to make me go all mushy."

"Yeah, you could at least have waited and given it to me when I'm old enough," Dawn butted in as she pushed a mug into each of their hands. "You do realise that these presents you've got me had better be good now I know you're giving cars away to people you've only just bit the once." She picked up her own cup and took a seat on the porch steps.

Spike raised his eyes to the heavens and asked himself 'Why me?'

Buffy took his right hand in her left and led him to the steps so that they sat either side of Dawn holding hands behind her back. 

Sitting there on the porch drinking hot chocolate with the two young women he loved so much, Spike thought to himself, "it's good to be home…"

****

End of chapter 22


	23. Chapter 23

**In the Name of Love**

By Tales of Spike

Spoilers: Story started just prior to As You Were and runs through to the end of Hells Bells. From there on the story goes AU, so Normal Again, Entropy etc. haven't happened and won't.

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Disclaimer:

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Buffy: What on earth are you doing here? The sun's going to be up in half an hour.

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Spike: Yeah. Since when did you become the walking almanac, goldilocks?

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Buffy: Goldilocks? You know I hate that name. Last time you called me that I cut all my hair. What are you up to? 

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Spike: I just got the latest forecasts. I'm not doing it, any of it.

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Buffy: So you're just going to sit here and wait for the sun to come up?

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Spike: I do believe I might. Given the choice between dust and the world according to Mr Joss Whedon and his friends at Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox and whoever else has dibs on us, I'll take dust.

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Buffy: What's so bad? I didn't think you'd run out on me.

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Spike: Yeah, well, the evil scriptwriters have me doing just that, but not before I really screw up. All sorts of stuff happening to everybody and I can't help because I run off. Way I see it, best if I'm gone before I do the worst of what they're going to have me do. At least this way you might not hate me when I'm gone.

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Buffy: But what if we need you later, maybe you come back and you help. Maybe we work things out. None of that'll happen if you're dust.

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Spike: And none of it's going to happen if I turn into some snivelling twerp either.

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Buffy: Ah-ha. Now we're getting somewhere. Why would you turn into a snivelling twerp?

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Spike: None of your business.

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Buffy: Talk, Bleach Boy!

(Buffy lands a punch on his nose)

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Spike: Ow. Can't you at least let me die pretty? Ow. Leave o-. Ow. Slay-. Ow. Soul.

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Buffy: (Shrieks with joy) You get a so-ul. You get a so-ul. (To the tune of na na na na na).

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Spike: Not if I stay here and wait for the sunrise I don't. So there. Not going to be Angel Mk. II. So bog off, Barbie, and leave me in peace.

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Buffy: In that case you better get inside all on your own, 'cos if I'm not mistaken that cloud bank is headed this way. I'll bet it's those pesky writers about to make it snow again. Just like they did when Angel waited to see the sun rise. I suppose at least it isn't Christmas.

(Spike looks up at the cloudbank, which seems to be moving directly toward their location. For a second his mouth hangs open unable to believe that fate could treat him this way. Then he stomps off muttering under his breath)

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Spike: Bloody slayer! Bloody storm clouds! Bloody soul! Bloody Great Poof! Bloody William! Bloody wishes! Give her what she deserves…

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Disclaimer2: Okay, I did it again last chapter, I forgot to say that I didn't write Eloise. The most common version available is by the Damned but they didn't write it. It was written by someone with the surname Ryan (or so it says on the CD) Something makes me think his first name was Barry, but I could be totally wrong. The lyrics for "Summertime" were written by Ira Gershwin and Du Bose Heyward. (Music by George Gershwin.) 

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A/N: This is definitely going to be the last chapter before the epilogue. I don't care how long it has to be. You are warned.

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Feedback: I'd really like feedback, I get all insecure without it and start to think no one's reading this crap I produce, so bring it on at Sandy.Osborne@blueyonder.co.uk.

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Chapter 23

"Hey, pet, thought I'd better check you got the money I left you before I took off."

Spike looked Anya up and down, looking for telltale signs as to how she was feeling. Her hair, clothes and make-up were all perfect. Whatever was going on with her and Harris, she wasn't letting it affect her professionalism. As soon as she saw who her visitor was, however, she dropped the fake smile, and her utter misery was plain for all to see.

"Hi, Spike, I got it. I might even owe you some change if it wasn't for all the burba weed that goes missing out of the basement."

Spike gave her a half smile and a shrug. "Not like I was looking for any." Spike looked around the shop. It was deserted except for the two of them. "Fancy shuttin' up shop for an hour or two and grabbin' some lunch?" Spike put down the brown paper sack he'd been carrying in one arm. "I've got some sarnies, some salad in case you'd rather, couple of apples, some chocolatey goodness and a few beers."

He pulled out a six-pack of beer and then tipped the rest of the sack's contents on the counter. Anya looked around the deserted shop. "Okay, I'll shut up for a while, but I've got to be open again by the time the college lunch hour starts. What do you want Spike? You've never done anything like this before, so there's got to be a reason."

"Okay, cards on the table. I heard the whelp was making an ass of himself and I wanted to see how you were." Spike opened one of the cans of beer and pulled a chicken tikka sandwich from the pile of food, before finding a clear area of counter to sit on. "So how are you, pet?"

Anya shrugged, "Either totally miserable or mad as hell, I guess you could say I'm experiencing mood swings." Anya took a bite from one of the apples and moved over to lock the shop door and put up the closed sign.

"I'm kind of surprised that one of your mates hasn't popped in and granted you a wish or two."

"They might have done, but at first I wanted to do it myself." Spike's eyes narrowed, noticing for the first time the thin chain that disappeared under Anya's blouse. "But Buffy and everybody kept saying how sorry they felt for him and what a bad way he was in. They're all "Poor Xander". None of them care that whatever he's going through he caused himself. They don't care that it was him that hurt me. They all love him. Maybe they liked me, but they love him, and he was my best friend and now they're all his friends and I don't have anyone at all and I don't have anywhere to live, just a crummy motel room and a tv that doesn't even get cable."

Spike moved to hold the not-so-former vengeance demon in his arms as she hovered on the brink of tears, gently rubbing her back in soothing circles.

"Hey, I'd take you over the git any day of the week. As soon as I work out what I'm doing about someplace to stay you're welcome any time; and for just now you can visit my crummy motel room at the beach with cable."

"You're not moving back into the crypt?"

"Haven't decided yet. If things go okay with Buffy, then I might want somewhere with a room for Dawn, somewhere I can cook and proper plumbing so they can stay the night without keeping their legs crossed. What about you? How come you haven't found anywhere permanent?"

"Probably because then I admit it _is_ permanent." She sighed and Spike gave her a quick squeeze.

"So, if the stupid git turned up here today with a fast car outside to take you to some wedding chapel in Vegas, you'd go?"

"Probably."

"You love him enough to forgive him everything he's put you through."

"If he was willing to marry me… but he isn't. He says he wants everything just to go back to what it was like before we got engaged."

Spike snorted in disgust. "Can't even see that relationships are about moving forward, can he? Doesn't realise that if he can't follow through on the promises he's made that you can't trust anything he's said about how he feels. He's just a stupid kid, pet. He's too ignorant to know any better." Spike stroked Anya's hair as she cried quietly on his shoulder.

"Does he know you've got your powers back?"

Anya's eyes moved to Spike's face so that he could see how her tears pooled up before spilling over her lower lashes. "None of them know. They wouldn't understand."

"Probably not, but there's a chance they might surprise you …But, say the whelp knew, by some miracle he was okay about it and he was ready to do the decent thing, you would have him back."

"Yeah…"

"What about if he asked you to give your powers up?"

The shop echoed with the slight creaks and small rasping noises that Spike's clothing made as he continued his stroking motions, his hand having moved once more to Anya's back. Finally Anya spoke.

"I don't know. If someone had asked me that morning if I'd rather be with him or have my powers back, I would have chosen him. Now, even if we try to fix things, it'll never be the same. Keeping my powers is kind of like having a safety net. I don't know that I could trust him enough to get rid of them."

"Are you back on active duty, so to speak?"

"Well, I haven't answered anyone's wishes yet, but it's just a matter of time. You can't take the power without the responsibility?"

"And Xander's probably too blind to see that what you do isn't evil. The evil, if there is any, is in the wish. I mean, I _could_ wish that he would see what his life's going to be like if he doesn't get you back. If I did and you granted it, there wouldn't be any evil in it." Spike carefully watched Anya's face for any indication that she might actually want him to make a wish of this kind. "…Any more than it would be your fault if I wished some exquisite form of eternal torture on him."

"No. He says demons are all evil and can't be trusted."

"He never really grasped the fact that you didn't have some massive personality transplant when you became human, did he? You just lost your powers. It didn't make you a better person all of a sudden. If you have changed it's because of what you feel for him. Whether you have your powers back and whether I've got rid of the chip, we're the same people we were before and don't let him tell you any different. 

Human or demon, you're beautiful and brave. You tell things like they are, unlike those three. They spend so much time in denial about one thing or another they should have season tickets to Egypt. And you're way stronger than he is. Even if he is the one getting all the support, you're the one who's holding together, while he's doing a fair job of alienating everybody around him. You're good people, pet. If he's too blind to see it, that's his problem."

Spike fumbled in his pocket before pulling out a crumpled handkerchief, using it to wipe away the last of her tears. "It's okay, kitten, it's clean. I'm just not much for ironing anything I don't have to."

"I can't imagine you ironing anything, not after that time you shrunk all your clothes."

"Okay, I admit it. I've got the woman that owns the launderette convinced I'm so helpless she washes and dries them for me, but she draws the line at ironing. Now, get some lunch inside you before it's time to open up again, unless you've decided you'd rather play hookey for the day, in which case I'll take you to meet a friend I've got visiting from LA."

* * * * *

Buffy and Dawn arrived at Spike's motel just after half past six with a takeaway bag full of assorted doublemeat products. They knocked on the door to room six, only to have Spike stuck his newly bleached and coifed head out of room seven.

"Over here, ladies."

"Dawn said you were in room six."

"And unless you mean in the literal sense…" Spike paused to greet Buffy with a welcoming kiss. "… I am, but I said there was someone I wanted you to meet and he's in this one.

Lorne, this is Buffy and her sister Dawn. Buffy, Dawn, this is Lorne. He's the one who looked after me when I was gibbering like a loon, so he got to write you lots of letters."

Buffy and Dawn looked over to the bed where Anya sat next to a large green demon, dressed in a bright red suit that matched his horns, his eyes and his lips. Dawn reckoned she could see enough of his roots to know she was the only person in the room who wasn't a bottle blonde.

"Lorne has a gift. He can read people's auras, look into their souls. He uses it to set people on their path. I'll let him tell you the catch, and then you can work out whether you want people around for moral support or whether you'd rather do things in private. First though I think it's time for a drink." 

"Nice to meet you, ladies. There must be something about all the Hellmouth beasties that means all the Sunnydale women are exceptionally lovely to balance things out."

Spike went to the fridge and passed Dawn a soda. He picked up a beer and a soda miming to Buffy she should choose, before passing her the beer, returning the soda to the fridge and pulling out another beer for himself. Then he mixed up what looked like fruit juices and vodka to get something that came out a sort of raspberry colour and passed one each to Anya and the demon that Buffy had mentally labelled "the jolly green giant".

Lorne made a slight face when he tasted his and Spike responded defensively. "I'll find a juicer tomorrow. For tonight you'll just have to make do. It says on the carton it's freshly squeezed. It's as good as you're going to get for now."

"That doesn't mean I can't tell the difference, William."

"Believe me, it's better than you'd get in Willy's or Dave's, Krevlorne-Swoth."

"Are you okay, Anya?" Buffy asked. "We were a bit worried when you disappeared the other night."

"I feel better than I have in quite a while, actually. Lorne did me a reading. It sort of cheered me up a bit." She smiled over at the demon in a way that suggested that she was slightly drunk.

Buffy looked over at Spike, who shrugged to show his ignorance.

"So, how did you come to know Spike, then?" Dawn asked.

"Well, while Angel-cakes and the rest went out looking for the stuff he needed, William here helped-."

Lorne was interrupted by some hasty coughing on Spike's part.

"Spike helped out in the office."

"So, you work with Angel then?" asked Dawn.

"Well, until the renovations are finished on my bar, I'm staying at Angel's hotel. Then I go back to what I do best."

"Which is?"

"I run a karaoke bar."

"Right." Dawn rolled her eyes.

"You haven't heard the funniest bit of news yet," said Anya. "You know how Cordelia gets visions from the PTB." Some of the people in the room looked blank but others appeared to know what she was talking about. "Well, it's not supposed to be a human gift and to make her strong enough to withstand them she's taken on the aspect of a demon. That means Xander really is a demon magnet. He's never had a girlfriend who hasn't been at least part demon or undead at some point."

Spike looked over at Buffy and raised an eyebrow. "This is the same guy that can't cope with the idea of the two of us."

"Anya was the only one he knew was a demon, except she wasn't when she asked him out," countered Buffy.

"… And the fact that Anya asked _him_, and his alternative prom date was the sock puppet of love had no effect whatsoever on his decision," added Dawn. "You _so_ could have done better."

"Wait a minute." Spike re-entered the discussion. "What about Red? Wasn't I …told, him and the Wicca were an item at one point." Spike had been going to comment on him getting the blame for Cordelia's impalement but swiftly changed his mind when he remembered the conversation of the previous night. He wasn't going to invite another lecture for something else that happened years ago.

"Well," Anya rebutted, "officially they were never going out. They were just having illicit foreplay while Xander was going out with Cordelia and Willow was seeing Oz."

Lorne processed all this. "So the guy that just broke up with you, used to be seeing Cordy, but he two timed her to go out with a witch."

"Got it in one, big guy," Spike confirmed.

"Well, I know I haven't met the witch, but someone who would cheat on Cordy and then leave a lovely young hottie like this at the altar must be a serious loser." 

The slayer glared at a smirking Spike. "I never said a word. He came to that conclusion all by himself. Hey, Lorne maybe now would be a good time to do Bit's reading, before I get in any more trouble?"

"Okay, what was the bit Spike wasn't saying about the reading?" asked Dawn.

Before Lorne could reply Anya answered. "You have to sing. I sang Bohemian Rhapsody but I couldn't quite manage all the different parts at once, but Lorne said it was close enough."

"So, if I sing you can tell whether I've got a soul."

"That's the way it goes, munchkin."

"And we can either do it with just you and me, or I can have whoever I want with me."

"That's right." Dawn seemed to ponder this for some time.

"Buffy and Spike are pretty much family, so I want them here, but that only leaves Anya and whatever we find out she'll find out anyway, so I might as well just do it with everyone here."

"Well, princess, why don't you have a look through the tapes in the box there, and see if there's anything you fancy singing along to."

Dawn skimmed through the tapes discarding most of them immediately until her hand stopped on one. "Mum used to sing that one to me when I couldn't sleep."

"Looks like your mother had good taste then, sweet thing." Lorne took the tape from her and put it into the tape deck he had sitting on the bedside cabinet. "If you forget any of the words, honey, just hum. It'll still work."

The slow lazy saxophone notes spilled out into the room and Dawn's voice was probably too high to really do the song justice, but somehow the end result still sounded pretty good.

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"Summertime, and the livin' is easy

Fish are jumpin' and the cotton is high

Oh! Your Daddy's rich and your Ma is good lookin'

So, hush little baby, don't you cry…"

The song obviously brought back memories for the two Summers girls and both looked vaguely teary by the time Dawn finished. At the end of the song Buffy moved up and put her arms around her sister, lending support as she waited for Lorne's assessment.

"Well, pint-size, that was just beautiful," he commended.

"I don't think she cares what you think about her singing voice. Just tell her the news."

"No need to get impatient, William. Well, pet, there's no need to worry. You can't sing a song like that without a soul, and yours is right where it should be, and a very nice one it is too. Just keep those sticky fingers away from what they're not meant to have and try to look at things from your sister's point of view before you go off the deep end with her."

"B-but how? Are you saying the monks made me a soul? Is that possible?"

"Honey, the only ones who can make a soul are the Powers That Be and keeping up with the population growth is hard enough, but most of you humans are already using second-hand ones, anyway. Now, is it that there are more human religions that believe in reincarnation than not, or is it that more people believe in religions that involve reincarnation than not? Either way, they've got it right. From what Willie here told me about the background, my guess would be that one of the monks involved in the spell volunteered to transfer his soul when the spell was cast, knowing he was about to die anyway."

"So you're saying I've got a monk-y soul."

"Sure, sweetie. You could say that, but I might phrase it differently myself, just to avoid misunderstandings."

"Then why aren't I all pure and whatever."

"Because the way you are is conditioned by your experiences, by your memories. Having a soul that once belonged to a monk doesn't mean you'll end up in a convent. The last owner of your soul was brought up in a different era, in a different place, with a different family and a different lifestyle. Who or what he was doesn't determine what you'll be or do… you do."

"So I've got a perfectly normal soul."

"That's what I've been saying."

Dawn launched herself across the room at the telepathic demon, throwing her arms round his neck. Buffy caught the eye of the vampire sitting on the table a few feet away with a smug grin on his face and mouthed the words, 'Thank You'. Dawn, having spent enough time hugging Lorne moved on temporarily to the other occupants of the room, finishing with Spike.

"Now that we've got the soul business sorted out, didn't you mention presents?" 

Spike peeked out the window. He had chosen rooms that faced north, which meant even though it was still an hour or so before dusk they didn't need the curtains shut in the rooms. Also there was a patch of shade he could comfortably use to make his way to his own room without using a blanket. 

Putting on his best lech voice, he said, "come with me, little girl." And taking her hand he led her off to his own room. Leaving the door open he found the carrier bags with the stuff he'd bought her. The room still smelled faintly of bleach and Dawn wrinkled her nose at the acrid odour. "I know, it pongs a bit, but I figured I might as well take advantage of Anya offering to tidy me up. I'll go back next door and let you try this stuff on. Your sister's probably going to accuse me of corrupting you, but what the hell."

He headed back through to Lorne's room, settling on the floor next to the slayer before putting an arm round her shoulder.

"What have you done with my little sister?"

"Well, when I left her in my room she was just about to get undressed." He gave her a grin. "Should I go check how she's getting on?"

"No, you won't." She landed a gentle punch on his chest. "You'll wait here and pretend you're a gentleman." However five minutes later there was some thumping on the adjoining wall followed by a request for Spike's presence. As he left the room, Clem was arriving.

"Hi, mate. Just about everybody's in Lorne's room. You know Anya and Buffy. Clem, this is Lorne. Lorne, Clem. I'll be back in a minute." As he moved from one room to the other he lit a cigarette, drawing deeply on it. He knocked on the door and waited for Dawn to open it before going in.

"There's something wonky with these laces."

Spike looked down, and sure enough each boot had one lace with about two inches sticking out and the other with about three feet.

"Alright, pet, we'd better start from scratch, sit on the bed." He was still re-lacing the first boot when Buffy came through.

She gave a smile that was dangerously close to a smirk when she saw the scene in front of her. "What have you done with my little sister?"

"Nothing. Do you think I should?" the vampire replied.

"Are you two never going to grow up?" asked the youngest or oldest person in the room depending on your viewpoint.

"We've decided that there are too many of us for one motel room, so since Clem and Lorne can't really go to the Bronze, you've been nominated to drive everybody over to our house. When you've finished reconstructing my sister's footwear that is." Buffy shook her head as she left the room. "Oh and you also get to pay for pizza and drinks for everybody, and yes, we've got a juicer for whatever it is your friend is drinking."

Dawn laughed. "You are so whipped."

"And this is supposed to be news, coming from the person who has me kneeling on the floor doing up her boots."

Finally, after a stop at a seven eleven, the group, including as Lorne described her "the punk princess" made it back to the Summers house. Buffy made a few phone calls, to Giles and Tara to say there was no more need for research and to the pizza company. Spike got sent out again to pick Tara up, and by the time they got back the impromptu party was in full swing. Spike looked at the number of people in the room drinking seabreezes and decided that they probably had too much beer and not enough grapefruits. Even the Bit had one, hopefully minus the vodka. 

Somehow the conversation had got onto the topic of old-time dancing, and how dancing now, just wasn't the same.

"I bet Spike knows how to tango," commented Anya.

"You bet right, kitten. You can waltz with someone all night and get nowhere, but if you can do a proper tango, then you're almost guaranteed to get their knickers off. Come to think of it a rumba comes in a close second."

"Pig."

"Anya, pet, you were around at the time..." Spike took off his shirt leaving the black T-shirt beneath. He pulled a rose from the vase on the coffee table and bowed presenting it to the vengeance demon, taking her hand and leading her to the clear space in the centre of the floor. "Care to show them how it's done. Lorne be a love and turn that music off and give us a beat."

The pair put on an exhibition for the room, flirtingly transferring the rose from Anya's mouth to Spike's and giving a full complement of dips. They finished with Anya almost horizontal, her back arched, neck exposed, rose between her teeth and Spike leaning over her with his back to the door, which was of course the point where Xander and Willow walked in.

Willow froze on the spot her mouth forming a perfect 'O'. Xander almost walked into the back of her, before he realised what had caused her to stall. With a snarl that would have done a werewolf credit, he threw himself at the vampire, who instead of trying to defend himself lowered Anya gently to the floor. Buffy's warning cry came too late and there were too many bodies between her and the fight for her to get through.

As he was already off-centre Xander's double-handed fist to his spine, drove him to his knees, and he stayed there until Lorne pulled Anya away from the area of the fight, while the demon's ex-fiancé rained blows on his back and kidneys. Spike could smell the alcohol on Xander's breath, and while he knew he was none too sober himself, he was sure the carpenter had had more than a few. Once he was sure Anya was clear he brought an elbow sharply backwards and as luck would have it, he connected with Xander's right eye. The brunette reared backwards in surprise and this gave Spike space to stand up. Xander tried to move in again, swinging punches left and right which Spike dodged easily before catching his opponent in the stomach with a side kick that sent him back towards the still open front door.

"I think we should take this outside, don't you? Buffy has enough bills to pay without us busting up the furniture." A punch on the nose, which Spike was more used to receiving than giving, was enough to push the taller man back through the doorway and onto the porch. A flying kick then knocked him onto his butt at the bottom of the steps.

Spike walked down the steps and held his hand out toward the prone figure. Xander looked at it in distaste and scuttled backward before standing under his own steam.

"If that's the way you want to play it, mate, so be it."

Having cleared the house, Spike was happy to let the fight become to all intents and purposes a bare-knuckle boxing match. Xander would swing at the vampire, who would dodge most of his clumsy drink-fuddled attacks. The blonde would then counter with his own lightning-fast feints and strikes, making contact with almost every true shot. As they fought, the two men traded insults.

"What the hell do you think you're playing at? Do you really think there would be anything going on in the middle of a room full of people?"

"What about at the shop?"

"What about at the bloody shop?"

"You were together and she put the closed sign up. I saw you through the window."

"So. I gave her a hug and a shoulder to cry on. After what you did to her you gutless bastard somebody needed to, and everybody else was too busy looking after your precious arse."

"You'd no right…"

"No, you stupid tosser, you're the one who's got no rights. You walked away and left her on her own. You haven't got the balls to live up to the promise you made to her, but that's probably just as well, because you never really understood who she is. And if you didn't even understand her, then how the hell could you ever think you loved her."

"I do love her."

"Not if it's not enough to marry her. Not if you can think for one second that she is or was evil."

Everyone from the party was out on the front porch and Clem was hugging Anya while Lorne had an arm around her shoulders. Buffy knew that Spike had to be pulling his blows or her high-school friend would have been unconscious after the first few hits. Even so, she didn't want to think what Xander's face and ribs were going to look like in the morning.

"I didn't say she was evil. Said you were evil."

"Not what I heard, but I'll tell you one thing, I might be evil, but I'm still a better man than you. If you don't get your act together sharpish, you're one drunken one-night stand away from being your father. Married to someone you don't love, with a kid you don't want, getting' drunk every chance you get to forget about it and like as not, beating hell out of the pair of them."

Spike landed an uppercut on Xander's jaw, which for once he didn't pull, and watched the other man collapse like a heap of soggy laundry.

Spike's eyes darted back and forward between Buffy and Anya, unsure if he should be apologising to either, both or neither of them. Anya seemed to have enough in the way of consolation and Buffy was coming toward him.

"Sorry, love."

"What for?"

"Spoilin' the party?"

"Didn't think you'd be sorry for half-killing Xander."

"I'd be lying if I said I was. In my book he deserves worse than he got for what he did to demon-bint. The fact I hate his guts just made it a bit more fun."

"Do me a favour and take him upstairs and put him in my bed and when you come back down I'll put some ice on your knuckles."

"So, I'm not in trouble then."

"No." She kissed him on the mouth, moaning slightly as he pressed back against her. "Not yet anyway."

When he came back downstairs he went over to check on Anya. "I'm sorry if I said anything to upset you, pet."

"You didn't say anything that wasn't true."

"I'm still sorry if I put my foot in it. I wouldn't hurt you any worse than he already has for anything."

"There's no way you could, it's fine." Lorne shooed him away towards Buffy who was sitting on the coffee table holding a bowl of ice and a tea towel. Taking the vacant space on the sofa Spike held out his hands to her knuckles uppermost.

"Is it just me or are you getting a sense of déja-vu?" Buffy asked.

"It must be just you, by the time there were this many people around I'd left."

"You… you know, whoever's here, whatever's happening, you don't have to leave unless you want to." 

****

End of chapter 23


	24. Epilogue

**In the Name of Love**

By Tales of Spike

Spoilers: Story started just prior to As You Were and runs through to the end of Hells Bells. From there on the story goes AU, so Normal Again, Entropy etc. haven't happened and won't.

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Disclaimer:

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Buffy: So this is it? This is the last time we have to spout this drivel about being owned by Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN and Fox.

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Lorne: Don't forget about David Greenwalt Productions and CBS. They own all us Angel people along with some of the others.

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Buffy: But we haven't mentioned them before, even when we've had people in the story from AtS, so why now? 

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Lorne: I think there was a slight oversight on the part of the person who did our script.

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Buffy: But you've said it now. So does that mean we can go?

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Lorne: Yeah, but you don't look too happy about it.

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Buffy: Well, when we do this bit Spike normally turns up, but I haven't seen him since I was giving him a hard time about getting a soul.

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Lorne: Maybe you'll just have to wait for next season, or the next story, to find out where he is.

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Buffy: But I don't wanna wait to see him. I want him here now.

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Spikette: Well tough, 'cos your just going to have to wait like the rest of us.

(She points to a sea of young and not so young women hanging around the area)

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Feedback: I'd really like feedback, I get all insecure without it and start to think no one's reading this crap I produce, so bring it on at Sandy.Osborne@blueyonder.co.uk.

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Epilogue

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September 2005.

Angel walked into the basement living room and cast a worried look in the direction of his grandchilde who was sprawled on the sofa, arms in a crucifix pose across the cushions at the back, feet up on the coffee table, watching his favourite soap. His red shirt was undone, his feet were bare and he had a mug of blood in his left hand.

"Don't you think you should be getting ready?"

"It's not like there's a lot to do. I've just got to put my suit on and put some gel in my hair. Unlike some that only takes me a minute."

"And Buffy and Dawn won't have you running round after everything the women forget."

"Maybe, but the weddings not till half an hour after dusk. We put the marquee up last night. The florist's been and done the flower arrangements when he brought the bouquets and buttonholes. Clem's out back now, wiping the dew off the seats and getting the carpet put down. Everything's under control. You don't have to get all over-excited just because you're best man."

"Shouldn't you go and see how the bride's doing?"

"Took her up a snack and some Buck's Fizz half an hour ago. She's still at the Medusa stage, all curlers and face pack and dressing gown."

"That's not a very charitable description."

"Well, when you live with someone for three years you get to see the bad side as well as the good. You know fine well when she comes down those stairs she'll look gorgeous."

Spike looked closely at the black trousers and shirt that Angel was wearing. "Aren't you going to get those all creased before it's time for you to be seen in them?"

"Not if I don't sit down, I won't."

Spike nodded a greeting as Lorne descended into the room. "Sorry, bro, but I can't find my cufflinks…"

"… And you're not allowed back in the room you slept in last night to look for them. I'll go check."

"Are you three decent?" Spike called and waited for an answer before entering the room where the bride to be and the two women from LA were sitting in robes, doing each other's nails.

Spike glanced quickly about the room and then headed for the bathroom connecting that room and the spare room that Dawn normally used when she stayed over.

"Lorne forgot his cufflinks," he said bouncing said items on the palm of his hand as he left. "Anything you girls want bringing up, pet?"

"No just send the rest of the girls straight up when they get here."

"No problem." 

"There you go, big guy."

"How come he gets "big guy" and I get "Great Poofter" and we're both the same size and he wears eyeshadow…"

Spike raised an eyebrow and just met his gaze straight on until Angel found something else to interest himself. "I'll go check on Connor." The Great Poof headed back upstairs.

"Yeah, better check he's got his cufflinks…" Spike raised his eyes, "…and better let in the rest of the women on your way up. I can hear them coming up the path. Put them in Dawn's room. That way they've got two of the biggest bedrooms and biggest bathroom.

D'you fancy a drink, Lorne? I've got some decent single malt stashed away." He knocked back what was left of his mug of blood and fetched two large glasses of scotch. Spike raised his glass and proposed a toast. "To matrimony. You seen any of the rest of the LA guys this morning?"

"Gunn was still asleep when I shifted my stuff into his room, I haven't seen any of the others but they were up all night and only drove down this morning, so I just left them."

Clem came toddling down the stairs to the basement wearing a black frock coat, pants and black shirt with a stand up collar, and a deep red cravat and waistcoat in watered silk.

"Everything's ready up there."

Spike nodded at the bottle and the glasses stacked in the drinks cabinet. "Help yourself."

The vampire looked over at a clock on the wall. An hour and a half to go.

"I suppose when we finish this we'd better get dressed."

"You better had," came a voice from the top of the stairs, "or Buffy'll be down here chasing you. She sent me down for more champagne and orange juice, but I don't see why we're drinking that and you're drinking whisky." Dawn came downstairs wearing a simple A-line dress with a square cut top and skinny straps. The colour matched the cravat and waistcoat that Clem was wearing.

"'Cos, Pet, Buck's Fizz is a girlie drink that won't get you young ladies, especially your big sister, too drunk. Whereas us big bad demons can drink single malt and still be good to go, so when you go back up, tell the rest of the guys that we're having a last drink before we finish getting ready."

"Oh. One last message from Buffy to Lorne. If you're not there waiting when Anya walks down that aisle, she'll find you and I quote, kick your green ass all the way back to Pylea."

Spike smirked. "I think that's my beloved's way of wishing you good luck."

"She did say thank god Lorne helped Anya pick the bridesmaid dresses this time."

"How's Tara doin'?" Spike asked.

"Fine. She's a bit nervous about performing her first ceremony, but she's going to be fine. I still can't believe you talked her into becoming a fully-fledged Wiccan priestess, so that she could do your wedding."

"Well, who else would marry a pair of demons. At least this way, even if it isn't street legal, it's official as far as the Powers That Be are concerned," Lorne replied.

"I'll send the rest of the testosterone brigade down to drink your whisky then, but you better finish that drink, and get your suit on and come help keep Anya calm, Mr. Vampire of the Bride."

A few minutes later the rest of the Los Angeles contingent came downstairs in the shape of Angel, Connor, Gunn and Wesley. Liberal measures of whisky were provided to all, and Spike knew the inevitable question would come. It was just a matter of who would be the one to ask. It turned out to be Clem.

"So when do we get a bash like this for you and the slayer?"

Spike shrugged. "I'll ask when I think she'll say yes. It's not like we're even living together." 

"Most of the time it seems like you might as well be," commented Lorne. "Whenever I visit it seems like the three of you are here, or none of you."

"Yeah, but it's not the same as being together and not having anywhere else to go, as you're about to find out. It's just a matter of giving her time. It's not like I'm getting any older."

Soon after the guys had finished their whisky, the first of the guests began to arrive and Clem, Connor, Gunn and Wesley guided them to their seats. 

Spike, as instructed, went to help with the bride which for the most part meant sitting chatting with the girls while Buffy sat on his lap. 

Angel took the groom in hand, and this time everything went off without a hitch. As opposed to the rest of the men who wore mostly black with red high-lights, Lorne wore a red suit with the same waistcoat as the rest of the men an ivory shirt and a black cravat and handkerchief. Anya wore a simple elegant ivory silk sheath dress. Tara who was officiating at the ceremony wore a shimmery dress in silver grey and the bridesmaids wore red. The closest thing to a problem was when Xander and his wife had to leave because their toddler wouldn't stop crying. It turned out Spike had been all too right that night the two had fought. 

Giles sent his apologies, but couldn't come because Olivia was expecting their first child in a few weeks and he didn't want to leave her. He promised as soon as the child was old enough to fly that they would all come over for a long visit.

At the end when the happy couple left for their honeymoon Anya threw the bouquet as is traditional. Spike was the only person who was surprised when Buffy caught it. He decided it was a sign… a sign she'd had enough of waiting. 

****

The End. 


End file.
